Crisis
by MagicSwede1965
Summary: Roarke's announcement has serious and far-reaching effects on Leslie. Follows 'Beginnings of Endings'
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** _Weird how the most emotional stories are the most interesting (and fun) to write! That's why this is done so fast. I've got plans for this family... :)_

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§ § § - January 16, 2009

_"Herregud," _Christian muttered when Leslie had finished explaining to him, in pure monotonic shock, what Roarke had told her. "If I didn't know better, I'd say someone at _Sundborgs Nyheter_ was clairvoyant." He tried to pull himself together and went to gather her in his embrace. "So for now you're out of a job, told to stay here till the baby arrives, and given to understand that you must figure out what to do with the remainder of your life once Mr. Roarke has joined this...this tribunal."

She nodded, the movement faint and jerky, her eyes almost fixed like a doll's. "That's what he said."

"I expect you'll want to talk to Rogan about the job," he ruminated, as much to himself as to her, "but it'll be some time, I think. We have to talk, Leslie, I'm sorry—we really need to discuss this now. We haven't even touched on it, and I think it's because you never truly wanted to face up to it." He lifted her head with two fingers under her chin till her stunned gaze met his; she looked so deeply shocked that he softened and kissed her forehead in an attempt to reassure. "I told you you're not alone in this. Whatever happens to you will happen to me, the triplets, and the baby. You have me, Leslie, and I promise you, I'll do all I can to help you, whatever the decision. But you know we must talk about this."

"I don't even know where to start," Leslie whispered, and at last her eyes filled with the tears he'd been expecting. He remembered reflecting to himself once, when he'd been temporarily on the outs with her, that she cried a hell of a lot, even for a woman; but he knew her biological father had violently discouraged her and her sisters from crying, so he'd decided perhaps she was just making up for lost time. But he could understand her reaction now; the job she had with her father had been such an important part of her life that he himself had drastically altered his own life to allow her to keep it. Now there were other forces controlling their destiny, it seemed, and they might just need the full year Roarke had told them he had left to him in order to decide where they would go from here.

Christian smiled at her. "Perhaps the best thing to do is wait for tonight, when everyone else can reasonably be expected to be asleep and we should be able to rely on our not being interrupted. There's no need to actually reach a decision now, you know. We do have that year you said your father mentioned. It's only that this is the time to begin processing the subject, exploring the possibilities."

Leslie nodded in that faint, jerky motion again. "Okay."

Thankfully, she felt a little calmer around ten-thirty that night; she had had a few hours to begin absorbing the astounding revelations Roarke had passed on to her, and while they still made her gut churn like a maelstrom every time she remembered their phone conversation, she didn't feel as though she were hovering on the edge of catatonia anymore. "It's only a job," she told her reflection in the mirror as she squeezed toothpaste onto her brush.

_But what a job!_ her reflection seemed to retort. _ You'll never find another one even remotely like it! And besides, you never went to college; all you've got is a high-school diploma. It looks like your working days are pretty much over. Lucky for you, you have young children to raise, and a new baby on the way. You'll be preoccupied with that for the next eighteen years or so, and that'll take you well into your sixties. By then you'd be expected to retire anyway, or close to it._

"Oh, really, and that's supposed to make me feel better?" she muttered around a mouthful of toothpaste. "And when this baby is old enough to move out, or at least head off to college...well, _then_ what'll I do?"

_Who knows, maybe Christian will be retired. When you send this baby to college, he'll be getting close to his seventieth birthday. He makes more than enough to easily support you and all the kids, and besides, he's a prince...the two of you could always volunteer to represent Lilla Jordsö at formal parties and state functions and that kind of thing._

"He'd hate that," she informed her reflection smugly and spat out her toothpaste hard enough for it to splatter around the bowl of the sink. "Don't you ever tell him you thought of that. So I suppose you think there's a chance that by the time this baby is about to head for college, one of the triplets might be married at least, and I can look forward to grandmotherhood? What a life. I don't mind being a stay-at-home mother, but what in the world would I do...especially once all four children are in school? Even housework goes only so far, and it's not like I have the perfect stay-at-home hobby like writing stories or designing and sewing my own fashions for sale. I have to have _some_thing to do besides lie on the sofa and read Myeko's favorite bodice-rippers all day!"

"So we'll talk about that too," said a voice from behind her, and she started violently and dropped the toothbrush before sagging toward the counter and catching herself with both hands on its edge. In the mirror she could see Christian lounging in the doorway, grinning at her with enormous amusement. "My apologies, my nervous mouse of a wife."

She stuck out her tongue at him in the mirror and got a laugh out of him, and rinsed out the toothpaste, holding the brush under the faucet for an extra moment or two. "So how much of my partially inner dialogue did you hear?"

"Enough to realize you're feeling a bit adrift in the wake of finding that you've been shoved out of your job and it's been handed to your cousin on a silver platter. It's too bad you never turned out to be a writer, even of diaries. The life you've lived thus far is the stuff of novellas. If you decided to publish your autobiography, you might have a bestseller on your hands." He laughed at the face she made. "Easy, my Rose. It's not as if we were given a mere three days to decide all this. Something tells me this will merely be the first of many discussions we'll have about this topic until we reach some sort of conclusion, so don't fret over it. It'll take many discussions to work it out, I'm certain."

"I was thinking that too," Leslie agreed a little glumly. "Well...let's see if we can get the kids down to sleep, and then I guess we have that first talk."

The children were fortunately worn out after the anniversary party the family had thrown for Christian and Leslie, and it didn't take long to get them tucked in and snoozing away. They put out the lights, crawled into bed and settled down, and let a few uneasy minutes elapse before Christian murmured, "There's no point in procrastinating, my Rose." He rolled over toward her. "Tell me, where do we begin?"

She settled on her side to face him so they could talk without awakening the children. "Well...since you caught me talking to myself in the bathroom, we might as well begin there. If I'm out of a job, then what happens next?"

"That's a good question. Has there ever been any sort of job you thought you might like to try doing, simply to see if you liked it or turned out to be good at it?"

"No," Leslie admitted at reluctant length. "Nothing I think I'd be any good at, anyway. I don't exactly have a skill set that has potential employers beating down my door begging on their knees to hire me. I just knew, almost from the time I first started going to the plane dock with Father and Tattoo, that I wanted to have some part in the fantasy-granting business, even if it was only tenth-class go-fer and errand girl and messenger." She grunted to herself. "As in the sort of messenger people kill in lieu of the sender."

Christian snorted with mirth and had to stifle it with one hand. "You exhibit more self-deprecation than anyone else I've ever known. So when you received your completion certificate, you went directly into business with Mr. Roarke, then?"

"Yeah, that's about it. Well, more or less. I mean, I was already part of it; graduation just meant I could do it full-time. I never gave so much as a fleeting thought to ever doing anything else. For all the good it's doing me now."

"So what you mean is that, since you supposedly have no marketable skills—and you can be assured I'll address that misconception later—you'd best not leave Fantasy Island. Which tells me that you don't _want_ to leave it, do you?"

"No, I don't. But what would we do then? Or more correctly, what will _I_ do?"

Christian quietly cleared his throat. "All right...let's work from that angle. Tell me first, exactly what is your father planning to do before he's forced to join this tribunal, whatever that is?"

"He has to train his replacement, naturally. And it has to be Rogan, because he and Rory are the only other ones on the island who're capable—and Rory's only nine years old. There'll probably have to be a fairly lengthy training period, if Rogan has questions or some situation he isn't sure how to get out of..."

When her voice trailed off, Christian prompted, "So then Mr. Roarke would be there as a consultant of sorts, perhaps?"

"Well, I don't know...that wasn't what I was thinking. When Father contracted the bone-eating disease, and Rogan showed up out of the blue and got Julie and me out of a pair of deteriorating fantasies, he just jumped right in and took charge, as if he knew all along exactly what he was supposed to do. I just told him what the situation was, and he went in and solved our problems like they were nothing. So it's possible that Rogan wouldn't need much of a training period. That'd free Father to do whatever he liked till it was time for him to be part of that tribunal."

"Yes—golfing, fishing, sailing, whatever," Christian kidded. "But no more fantasy-granting, one presumes. Now, would Rogan still need you as his assistant?"

"That's another question I don't know about," Leslie admitted. "Rogan might offer me the option. But then again, he might be uncomfortable with my being his assistant because, while he'd be in charge of the fantasies, I'd be owner of the island, and that's a weird arrangement, to say the least. It would be like you answering to Anton or one of your other managers."

"Wait a moment here...you wouldn't own the island yet. Mr. Roarke will be retired, my Rose, not deceased," Christian reminded her.

Leslie sighed. "Well, Father wouldn't have retired, not voluntarily at least. If it were his choice, he'd keep on going till he was either physically incapable, or just outright dead. I'll have to ask him about this tribunal business, but my impression is that being part of that would mean he'd leave the island somehow. So that'd mean that the island would revert to my ownership and I'd have Rogan running the place."

"Hmm. Well enough. That would place quite the burden on your shoulders, you know. Whether Rogan needed an assistant or not, you would suddenly find yourself in your father's administrative position as owner, honorary lord—or, forgive me, _lady_—mayor, and the ultimate law authority. I don't think he's ever considered training you in the day-to-day operations of the mundanities of life."

"True," Leslie murmured, frowning to herself; it had never occurred to her that this would be the case, simply because she'd never thought of it. "Well..."

After a few seconds he chuckled briefly again. "All right...presuming you don't want stewardship and ownership responsibilities, you would do...what?"

She released a long sigh. "I guess I'd end up selling the island to Rogan."

"Selling it!" Christian repeated, so astonished that he spoke almost loudly enough to awaken the children.

"Well, what else should I do?" she demanded in a half-whisper, as if trying to make up for his high volume. "If I can't run it in any of Father's capacities, then what good am I? And do you really think I'd just hand it over, like a trinket?"

"Leslie, Leslie," he broke in, squeezing her arm near the shoulder. "Of course that isn't what I mean. It's only that...well, it's not that small an island. Even if it were—think of it, my Rose: selling an entire island like that? What would you charge for it, for fate's sake? And Rogan would probably never be able to pay off the mortgage, no matter how well he ran your father's business. You can't honestly expect such a thing to work out and not radically change Fantasy Island and its denizens, and probably for the worse. I say that because the only entities that would be likely to meet the selling price would be enormous multinational corporations, or other governments. You'll find exceptionally few islands, tropical or otherwise, that are owned by a single individual nowadays."

She sighed deeply. "Oh boy. I'm starting to wish we'd never waded into this. I just never realized what this kind of thing entails. People dream about being rich enough to buy their own island, but when you get into all the logistics, it doesn't seem worth it."

Christian laughed softly and teased, "Undoubtedly those same people might wish they had your problems. Perhaps what you could do is simply turn over your father's business and administrative functions to Rogan, and remain owner of the island, whether in residence or absence. And that brings us around to the question Carl Johan brought up last month: moving here to Lilla Jordsö."

"Oh...fate have mercy," she breathed, and he grinned at her use of the _jordisk_ expression. "I never...we treated it like it was hardly an option."

"Perhaps we did, but it _is_ an option nonetheless. What would you prefer to do?"

"Huh," she grunted. "Let's see—all our friends are on Fantasy Island; we have much more privacy; we have our own home; the island has controlled access. Gee, I don't know, what do you think_ you'd_ do?"

Laughing softly, Christian conceded, "You make several good points there—and, as luck would have it, you appealed to me with my own complaints as well. All right, let's try approaching this from another angle. Suppose for some reason, we didn't have the choice: we _must_ return here to Lilla Jordsö. Tell me how you would feel, and what you would prefer, whether to live here in the castle or have our own home as we do now."

It took some time before she could respond; Christian waited in patient silence, his hand drifting caresses along her shoulder, cheek and hair. Finally she admitted, "Well, to be perfectly honest with you, I think I'd vote for moving here, into the castle. We have this suite set up for us already for when we visit, so we could just take permanent occupancy, and we could have rooms assigned to the kids. Since I don't have friends here outside of the family, I'd have company if we lived in the castle; I could talk to Anna-Laura and Amalia, and maybe I'd end up being advice guru for Louisa and Adriana and Liselotta, and possibly even Anna-Kristina and Margareta, the way you are for Rudolf and Roald and Gerhard." He snorted with amusement at that, but let her go on. "You could still go in to work at your office in Sundborg whenever you wanted; and together I guess we'd be doing assorted charity appearances and maybe the occasional state visit to other countries. We wouldn't have to go through all the red tape of buying a place to live somewhere and thus probably having to get a car on top of that, and there'd be built-in babysitters, housekeepers, cooks... And if we moved here, we wouldn't have to worry about the children's education, would we? I think you've told me that college in Scandinavia is free, so tuition wouldn't be a concern, and money we set aside for that now could go toward buying a house."

Christian noted, "We actually don't have to live here to take advantage of that. Because they're part of the royal family, the triplets are _jordiska_ citizens, even though they weren't born here. That means they're automatically entitled to a tuition-free university education here."

"I see," she murmured. "Well, it looks to me as if it's more to our advantage to stay on Fantasy Island than to move here."

"Does it?" he queried, amused again.

"Well, what would you want to do?" she tried to press him.

He laughed a little. "My darling, you forget one thing. For me, home is less a place than a concept. Wherever you are, that's my home."

She found his hand in the dark and wrapped hers around it. "That's right...you said as much at that press conference. I wanted to show you how beautiful I thought that was, but since we were in a roomful of nosy press types, that would've made headlines for a month." He let out a soft laugh of appreciation and squeezed her hand.

"I almost wish you'd done it now, whatever it may have been," he teased. "Well, I suppose at least we've dipped our toes in the water on this. There's a great deal yet to talk over, but it's quite late and we'll think better after some sleep." He drew her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. "I love you, my Leslie Rose. Get some rest now."

But it took her a long time to doze off; every time she reflected on what an enormous change had just been suspended over her head, she was afraid she would be physically sick. She still had doubts, too, that Christian could possibly be as content living so far from his home country as he made out to be. _It's gonna be one very long year,_ Leslie thought gloomily, her eyes drooping in spite of herself, but her subsequent dreams filled with dark clouds and foreboding images.


	2. Chapter 2

§ § § - January 17, 2009

The following morning at breakfast, Christian and Leslie told the other Enstads what had happened the previous evening; shocked looks rounded the table, and Carl Johan sat back in the chair that was normally occupied by the ruling monarch. "I may have thought that editor who wrote that article was presumptuous, but never would I have considered the idea he might be prescient," the prince regent remarked.

"I'm not sure he's prescient at all," Christian returned, the brow lifting. "Whether we stay on Fantasy Island or move here isn't the main issue. It's more a question of what Leslie wants to do with her life, besides being a mother, of course."

"You both know you'll be welcome if you do return," Anna-Laura said.

"The people would love it," added Rudolf with a grin.

"Not to mention us," said Roald.

"Because I'd be here to play Confucius again?" Christian inquired, making them all laugh. "For now, you may as well relax and not worry about it. Mr. Roarke told Leslie it had been strongly suggested she remain here until she gives birth, due to her propensity for emotional expression and the fact that she's already had a few heavy shocks since we learned she's expecting. Putting her on a series of daylong flights to the other side of the world isn't the best idea, either, so it appears you'll be stuck with us and our children until sometime in May. And no—" here he peered sternly at Rudolf and Roald— "that is _not_ a license for you two to begin demanding advice from me, nor is it permission for you to tell Gerhard, Anna-Kristina and Magga the same thing."

"Since when did we ask your permission before coming to you for advice?" Roald retorted with a wide grin. "We just do it, don't we, Rudolf?"

"Too true," Rudolf agreed, his own grin quite large. "Face it, Uncle Christian, we're going to take advantage as long as we have the chance, so brace yourself."

"You'll have to steal a 'Do Not Disturb' sign from a hotel somewhere if you expect to have any peace," Esbjörn observed, garnering laughs. "Advice aside, how are you two going to occupy yourselves while you're here? Leslie isn't due till May, if I recall correctly, and it's only mid-January now. Christian, you have your computer business, but poor Leslie will be entirely at loose ends."

Leslie felt her face heat with a blush. "I don't want to put anyone out," she mumbled. "I'll come up with some way to keep myself occupied."

Anna-Laura leaned forward. "You may not have to take on a charity, particularly if you and Christian plan to go back to Fantasy Island after the baby is born; but if you need some help coming up with ways to pass your time, I'm sure we can all combine brain power and give you a pastime."

"There are plenty of options," Amalia agreed, her voice taking on some eagerness. "I do accounting for Christian's _jordisk_ branch, you know. If you felt like doing mundane data-entry work, or something else he might have for you, that could keep you busy. And if not, you might think about making appearances on behalf of your friend Queen Michiko's orphans charity. There are all kinds of causes out there; you could choose one or several of the ones nearest to your heart. And, much to Christian's disdain, we do have quite a social life in this family." Christian rolled his eyes, and his nephews playfully catcalled him while Carl Johan and Anna-Laura laughed at their younger brother. "You won't be left wondering what to do with yourself, Leslie, I can promise you that." She stopped abruptly and peered at Leslie hard. "Are you all right?"

The tears that had filled Leslie's eyes spilled over, and she lifted a hand to her mouth. "I know you mean well, but I...I'm just completely useless." She turned to Christian and cried, "I told you I wouldn't be good for anything!" With that, she shoved her chair back and ran out of the room. Some absurd corner of her brain expressed gratitude that she wasn't yet so heavily pregnant that she had no chance of outrunning the others, which for some reason made her break into an out-and-out sprint, dodging the occasional startled servant in the west corridor as she fled for the farthest refuge she could think of—the atrium.

When she got there, she weaved her way through plants till she found an unoccupied corner, where there stood a couple of large pots containing cherry-tree saplings and a few others nearby with tall round bushes sporting buds that would be flowers in a few more weeks. As with the upper story, this level of the atrium had an all-glass wall that faced the North Sea, and Leslie slid into the hidden corner, letting her tears have their way while she stared through them at the ocean and the unsettled sky overhanging it. Silently she cursed the tribunal that insisted on claiming her father, knowing somewhere in the depths of her heart that once they got hold of him, she would never see him again.

As lost in her misery as she was, she started when she heard voices in _jordiska_ and recognized them as those of Christian and Carl Johan. "...said they saw her come in here," Christian was saying as they came within hearing range. "I suppose it's possible she went to the upper level..."

"There's no access to the upper level from this room, remember?" Carl Johan said. "If she came directly in here, then she's on this level. Let's see if the atrium keeper saw her come in." There were footsteps, and Leslie huddled against the wall, hugging her knees, brushing away tears on the fabric of her cotton sweatpants and peering through one of the bushes in front of her. All she could see was an occasional moving form as one of the princes appeared and disappeared between other plants. _ I hope they don't decide to get thorough and start searching every inch of this room. I really need to be alone for a while._

She could hear more voices on the other side of the large room, but they were far enough away that she couldn't make out the words; so she closed her eyes and tried to think about what she would tell her friends. _ I guess Christian didn't say we couldn't stay on the island,_ she thought, biting her lip. _I might have to be a stay-at-home mother, but is that really so bad? After all, Camille does it, and I never heard her complain. And I'd still have my friends, and Christian would have the guys, and the triplets would start school with April Harding and Kevin Knight and Tia Sensei, and they'd make new friends in kindergarten. And while they were in school and Christian was at work, I'd have the baby to take care of...and in between, when the baby's sleeping, I could relax, read or whatever. It wouldn't be so bad, would it?_

But she knew even as she tried to convince herself that it would probably never be quite enough: almost since the first day she had arrived on Fantasy Island, she had had some hand in Roarke's business, however small at first. She had the feeling that sooner or later she'd expect to be a part of it again, and there was a large piece of her that was deeply afraid that if she approached Rogan about it, he'd turn her down. Could she really stand to be on the island and not be part of the reason for its existence? Besides, the place was positively saturated in memories of Roarke, and to a somewhat lesser extent, of Tattoo. Fantasy Island served such a specific purpose and was so closely tied with one person—not only in her mind, she was sure, but in many other people's as well—that she simply couldn't picture it under Rogan's guiding hand. Nothing would ever really be the same again, and it felt as though the world were one large ship and it was tilting under her feet, heeling farther and farther over with every passing day. _I want things the way they used to be, _she thought, like a child. _I want my life back..._

"Well, she can't have just disappeared," she suddenly heard Christian say impatiently. "I need to find her. She's upset and I don't know what she'll do..."

"Maybe the best thing for her is for you to let her be, till she's ready to talk," Carl Johan said. His voice began to fade as they moved back toward the door. "Sometimes we need to think things out by ourselves, without someone else trying to..." She lost the rest as they departed, and silence settled over the atrium once again. For some reason that sank her mood still further, and this time she let the tears come in a soundless flood, her hopeless gaze washed to near blindness by her misery.

By the time she came back to full awareness, she was cramped from sitting in the same position for so long, and her eyes burned and ached from all her crying. She was cold from sitting on the stone floor and up against a stone wall; and her arm muscles ached as well from holding her legs drawn up against her. As she gingerly began to stretch out and shift her body in the hope of being able to stand up without collapsing on sleeping limbs, she felt a peculiar fluttery motion low in her abdomen and froze altogether, even down to holding her breath. _The baby!_ she thought. It had been five years since she was pregnant with the triplets, and she had more than half forgotten the sensation of the tentative brushing, patting motions within her womb. _Oh, poor little one, you really __are__ in there, aren't you? What must you be thinking down there, with your mother constantly depressed and getting one nasty shock after another? It's a wonder you're still alive!_

Leslie gulped flat the lump in her throat and gently patted her lower abdomen, which was only now beginning to round out a bit. A most astonishing sensation of lightheadedness filled her when the fetus within moved once again as if in response. _No matter what, my little one, you're going to get to meet your grandfather before he has to go with that damn mysterious tribunal. You'll be coming back to live on the island for at least a few months of your life, and Father's going to know all about you, and I'll make sure he sits for family portraits with you and your older brother and sisters._ She smoothed her shirt over the gentle bump, then laboriously pushed herself to her feet and peeked timorously over the tops of the potted bushes behind which she had been hiding. She didn't see anyone, so she slipped out of her cramped little refuge and ventured into the corridor, half reluctant, unsure as yet whether she wanted to see anyone.

She wandered along the corridor as if out for a stroll, but her thoughts were turned inward and her hands splayed over the baby inside her. She had gotten almost halfway back toward the great entry when a servant spotted her and exclaimed, "Princess Leslie! Your Highness, everyone in the castle has been searching for you."

Leslie blinked at the young man, and her face began to burn enough to rival her salt-sore eyes. "I needed to be alone for a while," she murmured. "Don't raise an alarm, please? I'm all right." She used _jordiska_, like everyone else; she supposed that now that she had a certain amount of dexterity in the language, she might as well make use of it.

"Prince Christian is very worried, Your Highness," the servant informed her.

"I'll find him myself," Leslie replied, eyeing him in a way that told him not to say any more. The servant seemed to get the message; he bowed, then departed.

But instead of going to the suite she shared with Christian and the children, she took a shortcut through one of the mid-bank rooms to get to the east corridor, then headed for the massive castle library. Something drew her there, as if she might find a friend or at least a little sanctuary. She let herself in and glanced warily around the enormous room, as if afraid someone else might be there to spoil her solitude; but she saw no one, and let out a breath before wandering to a shelf at random and examining titles. Maybe she could find a children's book or something that she'd have a good chance of understanding.

She had sat at a table and was examining a brightly illustrated book that had her husband's name written on the front flyleaf in dark-green colored pencil, when the library door opened and then closed again. She went still—and then a small voice exclaimed, "Mommy!" She looked up to see Susanna running for her.

"My goodness," she said, catching the little girl as she collided with Leslie's legs. "Hi, sweetie, what're you doing?"

"We're all looking for you," Susanna said, climbing into Leslie's lap. "Karina's being a crybaby again, and Tobias thinks you're lost, and Daddy's yelling at all the servants."

"Are you and your brother and sister looking for me all by yourselves?" Leslie asked in surprise, wondering that Christian would let them go their separate ways.

"I wanted to," Susanna said. "I told Daddy I'd find you by myself, 'cause I wanted to look around the whole castle. There's a lot of rooms with all kinds of stuff in 'em, old stuff and clothes and things." She peered around her as she spoke, and her eyes went wide with surprise. "Wow! Look at all the books!"

"That's right, this is the castle library," said Leslie.

Susanna squinted at her. "What's a lie-berry?"

Leslie grinned at her mispronunciation and was still explaining it to her when the door opened again and admitted three more people. Leslie looked up just in time to see Karina, sobbing, barrel along the wall toward her; only a few steps behind her was Christian, while Tobias trailed his father, staring at the evident miles of bookshelves. Leslie caught Karina and hugged her, trying to calm the child down a bit, while Christian took the chair directly beside her, watching her with a solemn look she couldn't read.

"Mommy, I thought you were gone forever," Karina wailed.

"No, sweetie, not at all...I just needed to think about something," Leslie said, feeling lame under Christian's silent scrutiny. "It's okay, sweetie, don't cry anymore now. Calm down, okay?" She stroked Karina's hair a few times and tried to wipe away tears with one thumb; Karina looked so distraught that Susanna seemed to feel sorry for her sister and slid out of Leslie's lap, patting her mother's thigh to indicate to Karina that she should go ahead and sit there. "Are you sure, Susanna?" Leslie asked.

"Uh-huh. I want to look at all the books," Susanna said, and Leslie chuckled once or twice and agreed, lifting Karina into her lap and cuddling her close.

Then Christian said, "You know, you put a hell of a scare into us. Where did you go, anyway? We've spent over an hour trying to find you."

"I told you, I had to think," Leslie said softly, half burying her face in her daughter's hair. Her sore eyes began to sting again and she silently cursed herself and her overblown propensity for tears. "My...my whole life feels like it's falling apart and I couldn't go anyplace to think about it and get angry about it and curse at it and wish it would go away and go back to the way it's been. All I'd hear would be that I have to face it because it's not going to be the same anymore."

She heard Christian sigh, and closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of Karina's hair and slowly rubbing the little girl's back. Karina seemed to be calming considerably now that she was being comforted by her mother; Leslie wished she had the same easy assurance that she could turn to someone she trusted implicitly and feel that much comfort. She tried to will the tears back, but instead they seemed only to be encouraged, and one of them seeped out from between her closed eyelids despite her best efforts.

"Life's always changing," Christian murmured then. "It seems to me that you think I don't understand, but you forget I've suffered some of the same losses you have. You can make the best of the changes and forge ahead, or you can give up and let them destroy you; it's up to you, in the end. But I thought you were stronger than that, for you've endured equally large losses before and come through them. Why is this so different?"

"Be-because I thought it would be there forever," Leslie managed, though her voice was failing her. "Or at least for the rest of my life."

"Why should it have been?" Christian wanted to know.

"Because it's Fantasy Island, dammit," Leslie cried out and burst into sobs, setting off Karina all over again. "It's not like any other place. That stupid tribunal—I hate it, I wish I could...could..." Words failed her and she gave in to her misery.

"Daddy," Karina bawled in terror, "make Mommy stop crying, pleeeeeease..."

Leslie felt Christian lift Karina out of her lap, and when the child was gone she let herself crumple forward, burying her face in her hands and sobbing for all she was worth. The noise of her own grief drowned out most of what she heard around her, so she flinched hard when hands began to land on her back and shoulders, and someone murmured a soothing apology before other voices began exhorting her to calm down and talk about it. Mixed in with them were Susanna's and Tobias' frightened voices.

By the time Leslie dared look up, she realized she was surrounded by the entire Enstad family, and she blinked tears out of her burning eyes, staring around at all the faces, looking for one in particular. But when she found Christian's, there was no surcease there; he was too busy comforting Karina. The others were watching her in a cool silence; she began to get a chilly feeling inside her. "I'm sorry," she mumbled, feeling more than ever like a lame little child being chastised by her elders. "I needed to..."

"Where were you?" asked Anna-Laura. "We've been over nearly the entire castle trying to find you. Christian's been frantic, and poor Karina hasn't stopped crying all this time. What on earth did you do after you ran away?"

Leslie's first instinct was to quail, to knuckle under, as though a parent were scolding her. But then she began to feel indignant: how dare they question her like that? "Don't you ever have to go somewhere and think about things on your own?" she wanted to know, returning her sister-in-law's gaze with an equally cold stare. "I guess I could have just retreated to our suite, but when you're in the heat of the moment, you don't think that far ahead, you just react. Unfortunately, that's what I did, and I apologize for that, but I won't apologize for needing time alone." She shifted her attention to Susanna and Tobias, whose faces had grown bewildered and frightened at the cooling temperatures between the adults. "It's okay, you two. I'm all right, so you don't have to worry about me now, okay? Why don't we go out and play in the snow for a while? Karina, sweetie, want to come with us?"

Only when Karina, huddled against Christian with her arms curled around his neck, shook her head did she register that Christian's eyes had grown almost as cool as his sister's. "Do you have any idea what a scare you put into us?" he asked, his voice cold to match.

"I apologized for that," Leslie said, scowling. "What in the world can possibly happen to me here in the castle? There's always someone around. Which is why I needed time alone for a little bit. Let's just forget it and try to think about something happier." Without waiting for his response, she took Susanna's and Tobias' hands and led them out of the library.

The rest of the family stared after her in disbelief, and Christian was left to wonder what had just happened. He met Carl Johan's, Anna-Laura's, Amalia's and Esbjörn's gazes, bewilderment in his eyes, and they stared back, then looked at one another.

"Being pregnant must be making her loopy," Roald commented then and peered at Adriana. "Lucky for me you're not like that."

"It's more than being just 'loopy'," Rudolf said, caught his uncle's eye and shrugged, attempting a reassuring look. "Maybe it's just a mood she's in and she'll snap out of it."

Christian mumbled, "Perhaps so," but even as he said the words, he was dismayed to realize that he wasn't sure he believed it. He hugged Karina closer, as much to reassure himself as his child.


	3. Chapter 3

§ § § - February 25, 2009

The weeks following Christian and Leslie's anniversary began to lengthen and drag for Leslie. She e-mailed Rogan at least every other day, looking for news about Roarke, the island, anything; he answered perhaps once a week, sometimes not even that often, which frustrated her immensely. Kristina clung stubbornly to life, and Margareta grew surlier while Anna-Kristina got more anxious. Carl Johan and Esbjörn spent more and more time in the city with parliament, for this was yet another of Carl Johan's duties as prince regent, and Esbjörn's interest in politics had reawakened once he was back in decent physical form. Anna-Laura and Amalia began to take note of Leslie's apparent fixation on events back on Fantasy Island; Christian took to going to his office every day and, by the time February was half over, was putting in not only full eight-hour days but even a fair amount of overtime. Desperate for news from home and still affected by her pregnancy, Leslie moped, stared out the window, badgered Rogan via e-mail, or just complained about having to remain in place and wait for the baby to arrive. She felt as though her life were on hold and everything else was moving along without her. Only her friends were regularly in touch with her, and she devoured their e-mails.

At Leslie's request, Michiko and Maureen had shipped out a couple of boxes of the children's clothing and toys from the house on Fantasy Island, and the day they arrived, Michiko showed up with them. At six months pregnant, Leslie had begun feeling like a balloon taking on too much helium, and there had been little anyone could do—even Christian—to coax her out of the doldrums. But Michiko achieved it; Leslie let out a stunned cry of joy and returned her best friend's hug with interest.

"I come bearing gifts," Michiko teased, gesturing at the boxes that were just now being trundled in by the castle chauffeur. "Clothes for the kids and some goodies for you and Christian too. Well, are you guys still staying in the same suite? Let's go talk someplace. Hello to all of you," she added cheerfully, seeing the rest of the royal family who were at home gathering in the great entry to meet her. "I've never known a more informal royal family in all the time I was married to Errico. It's so nice to be able to just drop in on your friend, even if she is a princess."

"Well, maybe you can reverse her depression," Anna-Laura said with a chiding glance at Leslie. "Even our castle doctor says it's just prepartum blues, but if that's true, I'm afraid of what she'll go through _after_ the baby is born. And poor Christian is beginning to run out of patience. I can't say I blame him."

Michiko studied Leslie and frowned. "Now that you bring it up, I can see it," she said, while Leslie stood there feeling like a specimen on a slide, being discussed by a couple of crusty scientists. "Maybe she just needs to get out for a while. Where's Christian?"

"At his office," Leslie said. "I guess he feels cooped up too."

"I'm not altogether sure that's why he goes," Anna-Laura remarked tartly, and Leslie felt herself blush. "Leslie, for the sake of your sanity at the very least, please stop acting like a martyr in the making. You aren't doing yourself or Christian any favors by moping around. Amalia and I are looking for someone to talk to as well, with Carl Johan and Esbjörn in the capital overseeing parliamentary sessions. Let's make a party of it in the sitting room."

In about fifteen minutes the four women were ensconced in chairs with beverages and crab-salad sandwiches, and for a while they discussed Michiko's flights and her plans, which were ostensibly to visit Adriana but really were meant to boost Leslie's spirits. "So you haven't seen your younger daughter yet, then?" asked Amalia.

"No...not since Gabriella's funeral," Michiko said. "We all knew that girl could be stubborn, but I think she's just trying to prove something to someone now. Adriana and Lindalia e-mail each other frequently, and Adriana gets reports that Cat's been cranky, spoiled and prone to tantrums. She's developed a hair-trigger temper, and she complains all the time that Paolono's changed everything good about living in the palace. She hates school, according to Lindalia...and the last I heard, which I admit was third-hand, Cat said something about school on Fantasy Island being much better."

They all laughed. "You might have that young lady home with you by summer," Anna-Laura remarked. "In the meantime, have you moved into your new house?"

Michiko nodded. "I know why Christian and Leslie are here and why they were told to stay, but I have to tell you, it's so lonely. We had thought we'd be running back and forth between each other's houses all the time, but Christian and Leslie's house looks abandoned, and Maureen's busier than I thought, ferrying her daughters back and forth to school and assorted extracurricular activities. I spend too much time watching television. So when Leslie sent a request for some things from the house, I decided it was time for me to get out, and I took it upon myself to deliver the packages personally."

"A good thing you did," Amalia commented, slanting a sidelong look at Leslie. "She simply isn't the same anymore. The doctor thinks it's pregnancy depression, Anna-Laura believes it's a refusal to come out of her unhappiness over what will happen to Mr. Roarke and the island, and I think it's a combination of both."

"And Christian's been spending more and more time at his office in the city," Anna-Laura added with a significant look at Michiko.

"He's restless too," Leslie said. "Winter won't let go, so we can't really do much of anything. So he goes in and works with his colleagues here."

Michiko noticed Amalia and Anna-Laura's exchange of glances, but didn't say anything about it. Instead she turned to Leslie with determination. "Well, winter-schminter. We're going out. I see no reason we can't do a little shopping. Amalia, Anna-Laura, would you like to come too?"

They agreed, and by the time they reached the city in one of the castle cars, even Leslie was laughing at the ideas Michiko had for things she wanted to buy. "You're going to start a collection of wooden _butter_ knives?"

"Why not?" Michiko exclaimed grandly, and they all cracked up again. "They look so cute with those little ribbons in the colors of the national flag tied around them. Oh, and what I really want is a big book of fairy tales unique to this country."

Anna-Laura giggled at that. "Oh, remind me to tell you the story about Tobias and the bear...it was my favorite when I was a little girl." She laughed out loud at Michiko's look. "Not Christian and Leslie's son. This is an old story. When Christian was born and we were trying to help think of names for him, I suggested Tobias, because I was so crazy about that story that it was my favorite name for a boy."

"I'm surprised you didn't name Roald Tobias," Leslie remarked, which set them off again—mostly because Leslie finally seemed to be coming out of her depression. Leslie knew it as much as anyone else, but she didn't mind; she hoped Michiko was prepared for a long stay. _If only I could go back home with her..._ She had to banish the thought; it wasn't as if they were going to be here forever. _ Just till the baby's born,_ she kept reminding herself.

The four of them were inevitably spotted by media in a tourist-trap souvenir shop in downtown Sundborg, but it was a surprisingly pleasant encounter; the photographer was a young female, and she approached Leslie with some deference. "Your Highness, I don't want to be intrusive—but it's so good to see you looking happy. You haven't lately."

Leslie stared at her in astonishment. "How...how do you know?"

"The paparazzi are getting sneakier," Anna-Laura said. "When you and Christian have gone to some of the parties and functions that he simply couldn't find a way to get out of, you've been caught on camera without even knowing it." She turned to the photographer. "I hope you can write up something positive to go with it. We see enough petty gossip, it would be nice to have a good mention in the papers for a change."

The young woman smiled. "I promise to do my best, but I seldom get to write my own captions. The baby blues pass too, Your Highness, so stay strong." She smiled and left them to their own devices.

"That's unusual," Amalia remarked, watching her go. "We're so used to negative encounters these days, what with the garbage media having taken over everything. She gave you good advice, Leslie. Please, try to stay positive."

"It helps having Michiko here," Leslie said, casting her friend a grateful smile. "I think it was just what I needed. So are you buying anything in here or not, Michiko?"

In the end they all found themselves buying something, and at the castle they were in the sitting room comparing trinkets and laughing about their silly impulse buys when Christian happened to walk in. At sight of their merriment, he stopped short, then did a double take at Michiko. "Well...fancy meeting you here."

"Hi, Christian, it's good to see you," Michiko said with a broad smile. "We got back from a shopping excursion a little while ago."

"Doesn't Leslie look much better?" Anna-Laura prompted.

Christian peered at his wife, whose lightened mood was still evident on her features, and smiled, though he looked rather reserved. "At least you're smiling for once. Well, I'd better go change." He left without another word, and they stared after him.

"Is he all right?" Michiko asked.

"Leslie, maybe you should go talk to him," Amalia suggested. "We'll wait."

Leslie approached their suite with some trepidation and slipped in as soundlessly as she could, darting glances around the living room before venturing into the bedroom. Christian was just pulling his favorite native-wool sweater over his head, and when he saw her he froze for a moment. "Oh...do you need something?"

"I just...wondered if you were okay," she said, biting her lip.

"Why shouldn't I be?" he asked tonelessly, pulling the sweater into place and sitting on the side of the bed to remove his shoes.

She hesitated before she spoke, remembering Anna-Laura's and Amalia's comments from earlier, thinking back on the month or so since she'd had the devastating news about Roarke's pending enforced retirement. Unaware that her silence had stretched long enough to snare Christian's attention and that he was staring at her, she considered her low mood over the last five weeks, tried to decide whether she would have been the same way if it were merely pregnancy symptoms, and found herself very much afraid suddenly that it was the depression Anna-Laura claimed it to be. She'd been withdrawing farther and farther into herself, she realized, her hand slowly drifting toward her throat as she ruminated. "I guess it's a good thing Michiko brought the boxes herself," she mumbled aloud.

"Is that so," Christian murmured. The sound of his voice brought her back to the moment and she turned to him, but by then he was reaching for the jeans he'd laid on the bed, his profile to her.

"Christian, what's wrong?" she asked, a creeping feeling of dread snaking through her.

"What could possibly be wrong?" he said with a shrug, without looking at her, letting his black slacks fall to the floor and stepping out of them before pulling on the jeans. "You're smiling again, so that solves everything."

The dread bloomed, just like that. "I don't understand," she said faintly. This was something new for her; always before, when she and Christian had trouble, it had been due to some manner of heated disagreement. This felt more as though he were slowly building a wall, as if he were shutting her out somehow.

At the sound of her voice, he turned to her sharply, with hurt in his eyes. "If it takes Michiko's arrival to make you smile again, where does that leave me?" he demanded, and without waiting for an answer, he stalked out of the suite. Shock kept her rooted to the spot until it was too late for her to try to catch up with him; when she got into the corridor and frantically scanned it for him, he had disappeared.

She had some hope that she might find him in the atrium; as she headed that way, she considered his remark and realized he was justified in making it. She'd already been weepy enough because of her pregnancy, but now it was exacerbated by her inability to leave Lilla Jordsö till the baby arrived; and she had let herself steep in her own self-pity, wishing over and over again—aloud as often as in her private thoughts—that they could pack up and go home right then and there. She had been so wrapped up in her cloud of gloom that she hadn't seen the gradual effect it must have been having on Christian. Now that she looked back, she realized that for at least a couple of weeks he had been going into the city to his office more and more often, and he didn't say much to her anymore when he was here; even his play with the triplets seemed more subdued than it used to. _I did this to him,_ she thought in a budding panic. _I think I'm killing his spirit...and maybe I'm killing his love for me too! Oh, Leslie, you idiot! You better hope it's not too late!_

By now her gut was big enough to impede her from running, so she had to settle for speed-walking down to the end of the corridor. She flung open the door, scanned the room for signs of life, but saw only the small forest of pots holding everything from clusters of small ground-hugging flowers to trees awaiting planting. She drew in a breath to call out, but caught herself when she noticed movement toward the other side of the room, where the "greenhouse room" of the atrium was located. She started in that direction, hope rising in her, only to have it crash when she realized it was only the atrium keeper.

"Your Highness," said the keeper when he saw her, and bowed.

"Hello," Leslie said, breathless from her fast walk. "Have you seen Prince Christian?"

"I'm sorry, no, Your Highness, but you might try the upper level," the keeper offered. She nodded, thanked him and left the room, climbing to the second story and letting herself into the huge observation level before she could chicken out. Again she rapidly scanned the room, but to her keen disappointment she saw no one there.

"Christian?" she called out, just in case he was somewhere she couldn't see him; but there was no reply, and she sighed heavily. She would have bet substantial stakes on his having come here, so she had no idea where else to try to find him.

Before she could turn around to start looking, though, her pocket began to play the chorus of an 80s song, and she started with surprise before tugging her cell phone out and peering at the readout. The number was that of the main house on Fantasy Island; for the moment she forgot Christian entirely and answered the call. "Father?"

Her eager voice got a chuckle from Roarke. "Hello, my child, how are you?"

"About the same, I suppose," she said. "Michiko got here today with the things for the kids, and she said she included some things for us too."

"Good," said Roarke warmly, then inquired, "What do you mean, 'about the same'? I have rarely, if ever, found that to be a positive assessment."

"No, I guess you're right," Leslie admitted, and filled him in on what had happened to her in the last five weeks and particularly in the last twenty minutes. "So," she concluded, "now I'm here in the castle atrium, and I was so sure Christian would be here, but he isn't, and I have no idea where to find him. And even worse, if I do find him, what if he doesn't want me around him?"

"Perhaps it's best if you let him be for a time," Roarke said with gentle admonishment. "Leslie, while I realize you aren't happy at being confined while you're still pregnant, you really must learn to stop obsessing and agonizing over things that are out of your control. From what you tell me, you've spent so much time weeping, indulging in depression, and wishing you could come back here, that he's become discouraged. How do you think he must feel, hearing you constantly wishing you were here? You're in his country, Leslie, but it surely appears to him that you'd far prefer not to be."

Leslie gasped, realizing with a flash of hindsight that he was right. "Oh no. I've been so awful—even worse than I realized! It's only that...well, I just...I don't like being out of the loop back home. I don't know how you're doing and I have to rely on e-mails from Rogan, and he doesn't update me as often as I wish he would, so I keep wondering how you are and what you're doing and what I'm missing. And I've been so weepy with this baby anyway, now that all this other stuff has bombed me, I just feel like crying all the time."

"You are wallowing in your self-pity, Leslie Susan, and unless you change your ways, you may find that you've driven Christian too far away from you to repair the damage without a great deal of effort and care on your part. The day will come, child, when you can no longer come to me as you once did. I know you greatly dislike it and you would do anything in your power to change it; but the fact remains that even I cannot change it, and your being here would make no difference to that effect. You will simply have to make the best of your current situation. I may sound harsh, Leslie, but your report tells me that you're only making things worse for both yourself and Christian, and you must stop now before you do irreparable harm to your relationship with him."

She had started crying again. "I know, Father, I know," she protested tearfully. "I want to make it right, only I..." She had to stifle a sob, and took a moment to try to control herself. "There's just so much happening and I'm trying to understand it, but I can't."

"I've promised you already that I'll explain everything to both you and Christian, as fully as I can, when you come back home. And, speaking of that—may I remind you that you _will_ in fact be coming home; it's not as if you've been placed in permanent exile, young lady, so I would suggest you keep that in mind from now on. You'll learn all you need to know in due time. But your first priorities at this moment have nothing to do with Fantasy Island: you owe it to yourself, your husband and that unborn baby to pay attention to your health and to take better care of your relationship with Christian. It's good that Michiko is there, Leslie, but I can understand why Christian feels as though he can no longer reach you. You'd better make it clear to him that he is the most important person in your life."

"I will, I promise," Leslie managed, sobbing like a chastened little girl. _It's only what you deserve after all this attitude you've been displaying,_ she yelled at herself, but it didn't help to have it confirmed in so many words by her father. "I just...I just want to stop crying, I want to feel better. I want to be happy."

"That is entirely up to you, Leslie," Roarke reminded her, his voice gentling. "No one can force you to feel anything, not even happiness. While you are in Lilla Jordsö, occupy yourself with positive things, and make an effort to enjoy your stay there. You are certainly not in a primitive third-world nation awaiting some grisly fate. Try to be more appreciative of where you are and whom you are with. If you must, then buy a calendar and mark off the days until you can return, but make a game of it rather than a desperate need to escape."

Leslie flinched and had to battle a new onslaught of weeping. "I get the message," she cried, wanting only to stop what seemed like an endless scolding. "I'll change!"

"All right, my child, all right," he said, this time soothing. "I know you're frightened and you want answers, but for now you'll simply have to be content with what little I can tell you at this time. Send your e-mails to me directly from now on, rather than Rogan, and I will keep you apprised of my condition and what is happening on the island. But as I said, don't become obsessive over it. Enjoy your time with Christian's family—after all, they are your family as well—and get to know them better. You'll be happier for it."

"Okay," she managed. "As long as I know you're all right, it'll be easier."

"Then I'll keep you informed," Roarke promised. "For now, go and try to mend your fences with Christian. Let me know what happens, all right?"

She agreed, and they ended the call a minute later; but Leslie was still battling fear and misery, as well as an overwhelming guilt over the way she had been treating Christian lately, and had to stumble to the nearest chair to let the worst of her crying spend itself. By the time it did, she had a headache, a stopped-up nose and the ever-present sore eyes; it felt as if she had been crying nonstop since New Year's Day. She pushed herself to her feet and deliberately pressed her face, one side at a time, against the icy glass of the wall that looked out onto the ocean, trying to cool down her fiery cheeks and burning eyes. It didn't help much, but in the end she couldn't endure her need for, or worry about, Christian anymore and made her way out to resume her search for him.

It was Michiko she met in the corridor, though, rather than Christian, and her friend was shocked. "Sweet paradise, Leslie Enstad, what under the sun have you been doing to yourself? Did you talk to Christian?"

She winced and closed her eyes in a futile attempt to keep them from filling up again. "I can't find him," she croaked and summarized her last encounter with Christian.

"Oh dear," Michiko murmured. "And if he isn't in the atrium—I remember you both saying that was his favorite place in the castle—then who knows where he went. Maybe you should let him come to you, huh? Come on, let's go on back to the sitting room and we'll tell Anna-Laura and Amalia what happened. We'll give Christian some space and time, and then maybe you can try again. Leslie, really, if you've been crying like this ever since you found out what happened to Mr. Roarke, I have to say it's a wonder you haven't miscarried by now. That must be one really strong baby in there."

When she said the same thing to Amalia and Anna-Laura, they both laughed. "If that's true, then it's a good thing," Anna-Laura commented. "Leslie, try not to worry so much. I suppose the doctor may have a point about all this crying being due to pregnancy, but you've long since worn out that excuse. And Michiko's advice is spot-on—let's leave Christian to himself for a while. Right now I think it'd be fun to teach the two of you one of our indigenous board games. Let's go on up to Esbjörn's and my suite, and we'll have some fun for a while."

Leslie got about halfway through the game before she shook her head and gave up. "It's no use. I can't stop worrying about Christian." She took in her sisters-in-law, noting for the first time their slightly stern looks, and bit her lip. "You know where he is, don't you?"

Anna-Laura and Amalia looked at each other, and Anna-Laura frowned. "I don't think you should tell her."

"It'll only make things worse between them, you know that," Amalia chided, and at Anna-Laura's defeated sigh, she turned to Leslie. "He's been in the office with the castle secretary for the last hour or so—"

"What?" blurted Michiko in spite of herself, while Leslie went sheet-white.

"Working on the computer in there," Amalia finished dryly, tossing Michiko the same admonishing look she gave Leslie. "That was why he came back a little earlier today. She called him at his office and told him there was some problem with it, and he's still trying to fix it. Leslie, we told you earlier, let him come to you. If you try to push him before he's ready, he may simply walk away from you, and the gap will widen."

"I'm sorry," Michiko said, reddening. "I didn't mean to say anything, but...it's only that Errico and I always considered Christian and Leslie friends, and I still feel that way about Christian even now that Errico's gone. I want him and Leslie to be happy."

"We know," Amalia said with a smile. "Unfortunately, Leslie has some serious amends to make, and she'll have to step with care while making them."

"Which means you stay in here and you wait till he's ready to see you," Anna-Laura put in, eyeing Leslie. "Michiko had gone to change her own clothes when Christian came back to the sitting room and told Amalia and me that he had seen you and he had some work to do in the office, and that he wanted to be undisturbed for a while. He had that look on his face that he used to get whenever Arnulf reminded him that he and Marina were supposed to produce a child for the sake of the realm. You don't try to talk him out of a mood like that; you simply leave him alone."

Leslie began to wonder just how much they knew besides the fact that she had been weepy and depressed lately, and her stomach started to roll. "I think you'd better excuse me anyway," she said, her voice cracking. "I've got some thinking to do." She was well aware that no one stopped her on the way out, not even Michiko, and kept her head down all the way back to the suite she and Christian were using.

In front of the door she had an idea, and padded quietly out to the great entry and toward the office where the castle secretary worked. The door was closed, but she sidled up to it anyway and gingerly leaned her head against it, wondering if she could hear anything inside. However, it was a thick door, and all she caught was the occasional murmur of a voice, no words. She gave up again and retreated to the suite, where she settled into a chair and began to think hard.

By suppertime she had long since lost her appetite and she had been fighting off tears at intervals for some time; but her determination carried her to the royal dining room, where she took her usual chair and sat staring at her plate, compressing her lips, going over what she wanted to say. It took about ten minutes for the entire family to gather; when Carl Johan gave the servants the go-ahead, however, Christian was still absent, and Leslie didn't want to consider the possible reasons for that. She simply cleared her throat and got to her feet, corralling everyone's attention.

"I don't mean to interrupt anything, but I...I have something I need to say. I apologize for using English, but I just want to be sure I have the right words and it comes out with the intended meaning. I...I'm sorry. To all of you." She forced her head up and tried to meet the gaze of each adult briefly. "I've been the biggest drag lately. I know I have a lot on my mind, and it's been getting to me, but I've been given to understand that I let it do that much more than I should have. I...I had a little phone chat with my father a while ago, and he made me see a few hard truths I really should have recognized for myself, but I was too wrapped up in my misery to pay much attention.

"I don't know if Christian's talked to any of you, but if he has, he's probably mentioned I must sound like some kind of...of martyr." She happened to meet Anna-Laura's eyes when she said this, and Anna-Laura cleared her throat a little, reminding Leslie then that her sister-in-law had asked her to stop playing martyr-in-the-making. She realized that this was what she'd meant, and bit her lip. "I guess I've done too much moping around, and too much weeping and wailing, and complaining about being cooped up here when I'd...when I'd rather be back home..." She winced and lowered her head for a moment, pulling in a deep breath. "I didn't even realize it. I can see now what a horror I must have been these last few weeks. Most...most of the blame for this is mine alone, but I have to put some of it on my damned cousin because he refuses to keep me updated. Father promised he'd do that himself from now on. I won't apologize for needing that reassurance, but I do apologize for everything else—my complaining and my apparent ingratitude and all my endless tears. I'm...I'm going to change that, starting right now. I just want you to know I really appreciate the fact that you've all put up with me for so long." She drew in a breath, then bit her lip again and admitted, "Unfortunately I just can't eat anything right now...I have to convince Christian I'm going to be different, and I think that'll be the hardest of all."

She didn't wait for anyone to comment; she simply left the room. Something inside her had eased now that she had said her piece; she didn't know how well received it would be, but she had done what she could. Head down, she plodded along toward the suite, without even noticing that the door to the secretary's office opened as she was heading for the west-corridor archway, and Christian stepped out, stopping short to watch her go.

Only when she was gone did he cross the great entry to the dining room, where he took his usual chair. "Are you finished yet?" Carl Johan asked him.

"No, I'll have to go to my office after the meal and find a new firewall program for the computer system," Christian replied. "It's past time I updated it anyway, so for right now, everyone stay off your computers. I had the secretary shut everything down for the day and sent her home." He glanced around the table, took note of Michiko's presence and gave her a rather formal nod, and smiled and winked at the triplets, with something less than his usual enthusiasm. "Did you three have a good time playing?"

They all nodded. "Stina said me and Susanna can sleep over at her house with Natalia tonight," said Karina brightly. "We'll have fun there!"

"She said Tobias can come too, but he said it's boring 'cause it's all girls," Susanna added with a very teenager-ish eye-roll in her brother's direction that made everyone laugh. "I don't know where _he's_ going tonight."

"No place," Tobias said grumpily. "Matti has to go to school tomorrow, and Staffan's too little, and Anders is gone."

Roald grinned at his young cousin. "Tell you what, Tobias, I've got some great new video games you might like. Why don't you hang out with us tonight, huh? I can teach you how to play a couple of them, if your father doesn't mind."

"Wow!" blurted Tobias, lighting up and turning to his father. "Can I?"

Christian laughed. "I see no reason why not. Don't tell me Staffan can already play video games too, Roald Helmer Olaf." Roald just smirked, bringing on more laughter, and the family began to eat finally as the servants finished filling plates.

Carl Johan watched his brother for a few minutes, then cleared his throat; their chairs were at right angles to each other, what with Carl Johan using the monarch's chair and Christian's seat directly to his left. "So have you seen Leslie at all?"

"Briefly when I came home earlier," said Christian, his tone guarded. "Why?"

"She was waiting for us when we came in here to eat," Carl Johan told him, "and before the servants brought the food up here, she stood up and apologized to all of us for her behavior the past several weeks." Christian's head came up at that, and Carl Johan nodded. "I had the sense that she had been going over and over her words; she was nervous, but she meant everything she said. I think, though, that she's most afraid of facing you."

Christian grunted. "She may not have to worry about that. You didn't see her when I realized Michiko was here. It was the happiest she had looked since we learned that Mr. Roarke has to retire."

"I don't understand," said Carl Johan, puzzled.

"Haven't I told you? She complains about having to be here, wants nothing more than to go home. When I was at work today, I seriously considered sending her there." Christian turned full attention to his meal. "When I saw Michiko in the sitting room with her and Anna-Laura and Amalia, I saw immediately that Leslie was the most animated she'd been since our anniversary. She was smiling; she looked like her old self." He shot one quick glare at his brother. "It took her friend to do that—her friend from Fantasy Island. It seems clear enough to me what she really wants, and I'm just about ready to give it to her."

Carl Johan pulled in a breath and released it, still startled at the wealth of pain he'd seen in that last glance. "Christian, you'd better talk to her. Do it tonight, before you make a rash decision you might come to regret."

Christian only grunted again, and Carl Johan let it drop; but for the first time, he was truly worried for the state of his brother's marriage. Johanna and Marina had meant nothing to him; Leslie was his world, and if something split them up, Carl Johan knew that Christian would never be the same person again.


	4. Chapter 4

§ § § - February 25, 2009

Leslie's stomach was growling, but she still had no appetite; she couldn't concentrate on the book she had been trying to read, and in the end she simply gave in to her agitation, pacing the suite, back and forth between the two rooms. Where was he? How long did it take to eat a meal anyway? When her feet began to hurt and the baby started to kick as if trying to tell her to stop moving, she gave in, stripped and took a shower, wishing she could wash her cares down the drain with the soap and shampoo.

She got out, heaved a sigh and went after some clean clothing, dressing with care, then turning back the bedcovers and retreating to the bathroom to comb out her wet hair. She knew it was just to stay occupied, but she couldn't help wondering where Christian was. Just thinking his name made her stomach leap, but she had too much to say to him, and she was considering hunting him down after all.

She was still rubbing her head with a hand towel when someone knocked; at first her heart skipped a beat, before she realized that Christian wouldn't knock, he'd simply walk in. She went out to the living room and opened the door to see Michiko there. "You all right?" Michiko asked without preamble.

"As all right as I can get when I'm trying to find the courage to talk to my husband," Leslie said with a shaky sigh. "Where on earth is he?"

"Back in the city, I'm afraid," Michiko said with sympathy. "He said something about having to get a new firewall program for the castle computer system, so I'm sure he'll be back, but I have the feeling he's just looking for some way to keep himself busy and avoid you. You may have to disobey Anna-Laura's edict and go find him after all."

"Oh, dammit," Leslie groaned, rubbing a hand up her face from chin to forehead and through her hair. "I can't stand this anymore. I have to talk to him!"

"So go into the city after him," Michiko suggested.

Leslie blew out a breath. "With my luck, I'd probably pass him on the way back and not even know it. I guess all I can do is wait. Maybe I could try texting him."

Michiko grinned; she knew Christian and Leslie weren't much for sending each other texts via cell phone. "You two, texting? I don't believe it. Anyway, a text message is too easy to ignore. You're better off waiting for him to come back. Listen, speaking of texts, I'm going to send one to Lindalia. Christian warned everybody off the castle computers because of the firewall problem, so it's texting or nothing. Good luck, Leslie. If he still loves you the way I'm sure he does, he'll be back, and you'll have your chance. I'll see you tomorrow."

Leslie wished her a good night and watched her retreat some distance down the corridor before closing the door and wondering whether Christian was going to attempt to repair the entire computer problem that very night. She wanted to give in to another round of tears, but she was sick of crying, and she wanted to keep her head clear.

Despite Michiko's words, she decided to try something, and tugged her cell phone out of the pocket of her maternity shirt where she had forgotten it before showering. With shaking fingers, she pulled up a blank text message, entered Christian's cell-phone number into the top, and typed: _Please, let's talk. I love you so much!_ She sent it before she could lose her nerve, then put the phone on the table beside the bed and collapsed onto the mattress, rocking back and forth a little, once more fighting back the tears she was so tired of.

She must have fallen asleep at some point; when she knew anything again, the room was pitch-dark and silent. She wondered what had roused her, and lifted her head, glancing around at what little was visible in the faint glow from the bathroom nightlight. Then she remembered the text and grabbed her phone to check for a response; her heart sank when she found none. _I'm losing him,_ she realized, panic and dread beginning to create a noxious brew deep in her stomach. _ I'm losing him and I have to get him back!_

Just then she heard a door open and stifled a gasp. It had to be Christian, after all. She lay quiet, waiting, going madly through her racing mind for something to say that might keep his attention long enough for her to convince him to stay with her. She gazed anxiously on from the bed, watching his form come into the room and take on some of the soft golden gleam from the nightlight as he went into the bathroom. The light snapped on, making her squint, and he started to close the door.

_No, no, no! _her brain screamed, and she rolled clumsily off the bed and onto her feet, lurching across the room and barely catching the door before he pushed it shut. It opened again when he encountered resistance, and he gave her one uninterested glance before shrugging and turning away to face the mirror.

All she could think to say was, "Did you get my text message?"

He flicked a vaguely surprised glance at her in the mirror and grunted an acknowledgment, but didn't speak. She loitered there in the doorway, trying to come up with some compelling opening sentence, before he asked suddenly, "Do you really?"

Clutching the doorjamb, she gaped at him, blank and wide-eyed. "Do I what?"

"Love me," he said flatly.

She gasped in horror. "Oh Christian!" Tears threatened again, and this time there was no stopping them, no matter how hard she tried. "If I didn't love you, would I be standing here like this, trying to find the right words to say to you? I've been trying and trying ever since...since, I don't know, since you walked out on me. I went looking for you and you were gone. I...please, Christian, please, listen to me." She had the sense that this was her last chance with him, and pure panic made the words pour out in a mad flood as she tried to tell him how she felt, what had made her feel that way, the phone call she'd had from Roarke that had made her see what she was doing. "I should have seen it for myself, but I was just so damn selfish and stupid...I couldn't see anything. I had no idea. I...I think I was just mad at that damn cousin of mine for not keeping me up to date. But I can't blame him for what I did to you. You were always there and I—I took you for granted." She started to break down at last, long since unable to see him for her tears; her knees threatened to give way under her, and she was trembling violently. "I'm so sorry...I know it's not enough, but I am, I truly am. I...tell me how I can make it up to you, please."

After almost a full minute, he released a long sigh, took her arm and led her back into the bedroom, pushing her gently down onto the mattress and pausing while she backhanded tears aside and tried to focus on him through streaming eyes. "Now," he said, his voice still flat calm, "now, will you listen to me?" She nodded hard, and he settled his stance, folding his arms over his chest. "I was just short of handing you a plane ticket and sending you back to Fantasy Island, Leslie—_alone."_

Shock joined the panic in her gut and she almost browned out, gripping the edge of the mattress to keep herself upright. "Nooooo," she moaned.

"Yes, I was. You said a few moments ago that you were taking me for granted." His voice began to take on a sharp, black undertone. "Oh, hell yes, you certainly were. More than you seem to realize even now that you claim to have been shown the proverbial error of your ways. Day after day after day, there you were, complaining about Rogan, about not having news, and particularly about being stuck here waiting for the baby. What in hell do you think I felt like when you did that? Trapped here in this country, trapped here in the castle? Did you even realize what you were saying to me?"

"Christian..." she begged, sobbing.

But he was implacable; his temper had been on low simmer for some time, and it was as though he couldn't stop once he got going. "But that's only the surface. What of that day just after you learned of your father's retirement? Feeling sorry for yourself—which you've been doing ever since that day, I might add—and announcing that you were useless, you have no purpose because you've held only one job in all your life. Rushing away like a child, rather than staying to talk it out. Making us hunt all over the castle for you while you hid away somewhere and sulked and felt sorry for yourself. Terrifying the children, especially Karina, who I think is rather more sensitive than the other two. You shut us out—mostly, you shut _me_ out. Whatever happened to our vows to stand by each other, to be there for each other? You never quite seem to get it through your skull, Leslie—I clearly remember having much the same conversation with my brother and sister and their spouses as far back as October when you insisted on feeling guilty for Briella's death. You talked about feeling like an outsider, and we tried to disabuse you of that notion. I find that a pretty irony, you know, your complaining about feeling separate from us all, and then shutting us all out when you really needed to turn to someone!

"Why do you think I've been spending so much time at work, hm? I couldn't stand to be around you anymore! I spent at least the first two weeks trying to pull you out of your mood, but you wouldn't have it. I began to think you must enjoy sulking and pitying yourself. No one can bear spending much time with someone so determined to drown herself in unhappiness and dissatisfaction. I don't know what's happened to you, Leslie. You've changed somehow. There have been times—not just in this instance, but in other situations like this one—when I've thought you're quite the drama queen, carrying on as you do and going so far that you nearly destroy what you have before someone brings you back to your senses. I truly don't know whether I can take it any longer."

This hit her like an onrushing express train; her sobs were shocked away, and in the light from the bathroom she gaped at him with pure terror in her eyes. She wanted to stand up, to protest, to say something—anything—but she was too sure that no matter what she came up with, it would be in vain. His last sentence carried an implication that was so alien to her, she couldn't bear to speak for fear that whatever she said would confirm it. They hovered there like that for a seeming eon; he appeared to be waiting, and she was frozen with horror, her mind racing, digging, coming up with nothing.

Christian got fed up and spat out an enraged curse. "Fate take you, Leslie, have you nothing at all to say to me?"

"I've made you hate me," she breathed at last. "You...you wouldn't have said all that—especially that last part—if you didn't. You can't take it and you were going to send me home without you or the kids. You want a...a divorce, don't you?"

The word hung there in the air between them like a tiny threatening thundercloud; Christian blinked at her, then actually backed off a couple of steps, shock finally chasing away his fury. "What in hell are you talking about?"

"Didn't you hear yourself?" she asked, her voice sliding into a hopeless monotone. "You got so carried away telling me exactly how hateful and disgusting I've been, you probably said what was lurking in the back of your mind all that time."

"Oh, hell," Christian muttered, his voice losing steam, reflecting only weary exasperation now. "Leslie, damn it, you have the most unbelievable way of reading the worst possible conclusions into my statements."

She pushed herself to her feet, the shock having ironically calmed her enough that she felt her legs might hold her up. "Then tell me what you really meant when you said you wanted to send me to Fantasy Island alone. Explain it, if it doesn't mean you just want to end our marriage."

Christian sighed and half turned away from her, raking his hand through his hair. "I don't know. Believe me or don't, but truly, I don't know. I was so upset with you, I wasn't thinking beyond the impulse that made me say that. You really should know just how far you've pushed me lately, though. I went into work at eight this morning, as you may recall. By lunchtime the idea had occurred to me, and I spent intervals all afternoon seriously considering it. Once or twice I actually almost did. I kept picturing myself walking in here and finding you staring out the window in that self-absorbed cloud of yours, and just handing you the printout of your plane reservations without saying a word, and allowing whatever fallout might ensue. I thought I was beyond caring."

"And are you?" she asked, her voice trembling but otherwise calm.

"No, I'm not," he said quietly. "I'm extremely upset with you, and I'm thoroughly bewildered—how could you let things get this far and not see what you were doing? How many times have we told you to talk to us, Leslie? How often do we have to say it before you realize we mean it? I've asked you to stop trying to shoulder the blame for everything you can think of that you were even minutely involved with. I've asked you to let me in when you need someone. That's why I'm here, for fate's sake. But your trouble is, you let it pass right through. You listen, but you don't retain what I say to you. I have to tell you the same things again and again, and now this is one time too many. I want to be there for you, Leslie, but when you exhibit the same destructive behavior again and again, I feel as though I'm kicking the wall. Even now as I stand here telling you this, I no longer believe it'll sink in; sooner or later, there'll come another time when you do it again—run away when you should talk things over, take blame for things that aren't your responsibility, put yourself down in a thousand little ways. Damn you, Leslie, I wish to fate you'd _stop_ it."

"I see," she mumbled, beginning to shake her head. "So you want me to stop doing these stupid things, but you don't believe I will. That's a great way to encourage me, after this...this epiphany and this giant scare you're giving me. And you know what else? The more you talk, the more I realize you're right, but the more I think it won't make a difference no matter how much I try. I could say I've been a selfish little fool and it would be right, but you'd see it as putting myself down again. I could burst into yet another round of tears because that's the way I seem to be wired up, because that's how fear and worry and need tend to express themselves in me, but all you'd see is that overemotional girl you married. I could ask you to give me a chance to really prove myself to you, but all the while I'd be afraid you'd only be waiting for the next slip, the next reversion to form. And I could reconstruct the apology I made to the rest of the family right before supper, but I don't think you'd believe a single word." She turned to him, focusing on him fully for the first time, and took in his stunned expression. "What I think is that you've reached the conclusion that you and I've had too many rounds of the same stupid problems, over and over, and you've hit your limit and you're ready to..." Her voice faded and she shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe that divorce you kept implying."

"You'd better get something straight right now, Leslie. I do _not_ want a divorce," Christian said low, but so fiercely that she somehow believed him. "We're finally beginning to really empty out our souls to each other—even though it comes across more as tearing and ripping, drawing blood—and if this means something truly changes and we both grow as husband and wife and as human beings, then let's continue it."

She shot him a skeptical look. "This is _good_ for us? This...this bloodletting, you call it? Are we really doing anything but just hurting each other?"

"The truth hurts," he reminded her. "We have that saying in _jordiska_ too."

She filled her lungs, as if trying to draw new energy from the air, and considered it for a moment before something occurred to her. "So what you mean is that maybe we'll finally see what's wrong, _really_ see it, and take steps to solve it."

For the first time his voice gentled. "Yes, exactly so."

She began to absently play with a ribbon on her maternity nightgown. "I...I can see why you'd complain so much. It's like I said, I should have seen it for myself. It almost seems like it's worth less as a revelation because someone else had to show it to me. As if, now that I've been made to see what I've been doing the last month, I'd be less likely to truly learn the lesson I need to learn." She hung her head and drew in a shaky breath. "I know you're right—all the things you've tried to bludgeon into my head, even with help from Carl Johan and Amalia and Anna-Laura and Esbjörn, you've been repeating yourselves. I guess they know it as well as you do, but they're just too polite to say so." Her head shot up. "Did you tell them about the awful things I said about feeling trapped here?"

"Only Carl Johan," Christian said, shrugging one shoulder.

She groaned softly, and to her disbelief, he let out a brief chuckle. "Oh, Christian, damn it all. I even said something about my own ingratitude when I apologized to them all. But I thought just now that they all knew because you told them."

"As I said, I told only my brother. If anyone else knows, it's because they overheard you," Christian remarked. "Even if they didn't, there's no doubt they couldn't help noticing your resentment at being told to wait here till the baby is born. And I should mention something else. It isn't just my siblings and in-laws; it's my nieces and nephews too. Rudolf in particular; he's quite observant. Last week he asked me what in fate's name had changed you from the happy aunt he knows to this spoiled whiner. I had to tell him he must have been right after all about the imposter from outer space, the one he mentioned when you gave that nosy reporter such a brilliant comedown when we were in Birka."

"So I probably didn't have to say it; they could all see it. Great." Leslie shook her head and wandered toward the windows. "The more I hear, the more astonished I am they actually let me waste their time with my inadequate words."

"There you go again," Christian said, his voice rising slightly, the exasperation creeping back into it. "Putting yourself down, under the misguided notion that you come across as humble, when it's something else entirely. You've done it so often, jokingly or not, that it sounds more like self-loathing than self-deprecation. There's a fine line there, and I think you've been weaving back and forth across it. That's one of the things I mean—and again I say, damn it, Leslie, _stop!"_

"Well, what do you think they thought of it, then?" she demanded, frazzled.

"I don't know about the others, but I did speak with Carl Johan a bit, and he told me about the apology. He said he thought you were sincere—nervous, but speaking the truth. He also said he thought you were most frightened of facing me."

"It's true," said Leslie bleakly. "Because you mean the most to me, of all of them."

Silence met this simple statement; it stretched out enough that she turned back to him to see his reaction, and blinked at what she found. "So," he murmured, studying her with the first signs of hope. "I think that answers my question. You do love me."

"Now I have to know," Leslie said, staring at him, fearing and hoping all at the same time. "What about you? I thought to myself earlier, I've been killing your spirit and maybe your love for me as well. Have I?"

He regarded her for a moment, then approached her on cat feet while she watched, and stopped in front of her, allowing the slightest smile. "No, you haven't. You've certainly done your utmost in these past weeks, but my spirit is only bruised, and my love for you simply refuses to die. I love you, Leslie, my Rose. Why else would I stand here and try to batter the truth into your head, to make you understand my point of view?" With great care, he slid his palms over her cheeks till her face rested in his hands. "Without question, Leslie Enstad, you are the most stubborn, hardheaded female I've ever known, but fate help me, I'm so deeply in love with you that it's hopeless. I just ask that you listen to me, truly listen—not just hear it and let it evaporate, but listen and remember."

"You...you said we were emptying our souls to each other," she ventured, and he nodded, a quizzical look about him. "It goes both ways, you know..."

He grinned at that. "Ah, so you think it's only fair that I put myself in for my share of brutal truth? Well, before we do, and lest you think I'm merely trying to squirm my way out of it, let me remind you of the time." He showed her the clock, which read a few minutes shy of midnight. "We've already put ourselves through a hurricane's worth of emotions as it is, and dragging my faults into daylight will just take that much more out of us."

"But...if we don't, we...we might lose that momentum. We'll sleep now, and in the morning we won't want to disturb the truce."

Christian released a resigned chuckle and let his hands fall to his sides. "You're that determined, are you? Well enough, fair is fair, I suppose. But perhaps you'd indulge me the privilege of doing this after we're in bed for the night. Something tells me we'll be too worn out after I've had my turn under the sledgehammer."

"Okay, I'll concede to that," Leslie agreed with a weary smile. "I just think that as long as we're on a roll here...I liked what you said about growing as a couple and as human beings in general. I know I'm the one who's been a nightmare to live with lately, but now that we're talking, this should be only the beginning."

"Now I'm worried," Christian joked, and she finally laughed. He grinned again in response and, at last, wrapped her in his arms. "Let's try to keep in mind throughout all this that I love you, that we're in this for a lifetime, and that's why we're doing this."

"I love you too, Christian—I love you so much, it's a physical thing sometimes. I can actually feel it, did you know that? It's the most amazing sensation...even more amazing than feeling the baby moving in me. As long as I feel that, I know it'll be all right, because those sensations reassure me."

"I feel that too," he said softly, watching her eyes widen. "Did you think I didn't, or couldn't? Some mornings I still awaken, even after eight years of marriage to you, and I just stare at you while you sleep, wondering how I ever got so fortunate as to have this woman who truly loves me for me and not for being a prince. Here—one last thing before we start to antagonize each other again." He winked when she snickered, and then dipped his head and kissed her at length. When he came up for air, he swallowed thickly and closed his eyes again. "You're dangerous...now I want you so much, I don't know if I can control myself."

"Uh-uh-uh, no squirming out of it," she teased lightly, and let out a laugh when he rolled his eyes. "Come on, my love, let's get the bad part over with so we can get to the good part, because I want you too."

Fifteen minutes later they faced each other in the bed, the dark cloaking them, seeming somehow to soften the air. "So what is it about me that drives you insane?" he asked.

Leslie squelched a grin, which wasn't too hard, now that she thought over what she wanted to say. "Well, I've seen how fast your hackles get raised if someone brings up Sire or Arnulf. I keep thinking of that night we argued about the way they more or less traded you for amakarna, and how I finally got fed up and said you'd never gotten over it, and just like that, you shut down completely. You give the appearance of being able to change your feelings at the merest flip of a switch."

"Do I?" he murmured. "Perhaps you should be aware that it's been said that love and hate are merely two ends of a spectrum, and that the true opposite of love isn't hatred but indifference. Hating someone implies that you still care enough about that person to expend the energy it takes to hate them. Indifference can be far more painful."

"I see what you mean," she agreed, pondering it. "But I wouldn't want you hating me any more than I'd want you to be indifferent to me." He chuckled, and she found his hand in the dark and squeezed it. "Your negative emotions scare me sometimes, but all it means to me is that you're not a cold person, that when you love someone, it's true and real, and they'd damn well better deserve that love. I wouldn't change that. What I _would_ change is your persistent harping on the way Sire and Arnulf did you wrong. It's history, my love. It's all done and over with, and nothing can change it, and in the end you got your way anyway and shed yourself of Marina and married me." She could just see his thoughtful expression in the faint illumination from the bathroom nightlight. "You say you have to keep repeating yourself to me about not feeling like an outsider and about insulting myself and taking too much blame. Well, we have to do the same thing to you where Sire and Arnulf are concerned. And we both know it isn't just me, it's the rest of the family too—especially Anna-Laura. You have all the reason in the world to resent those two, but we all know the whole story by heart. Somewhere down the line, you have to just cast it aside and move on." She pressed his hand against her heart. "You see?"

"Yes, I do, and I admit, you have a valid point. I can only guess that it still bothers me after all this time because..." He paused, thinking. "Because they were my father and my brother. No, it isn't unprecedented for family members to do heinous things to each other. Siblings can be much crueler to one another than parents and children. But now that I lie here reflecting on it, it seems to me that my anger with Father over the amakarna issue is rooted in the fact that he was my parent, and he should have loved me with the same intensity he loved Arnulf, Carl Johan and Anna-Laura. But he resented my existence and made no secret of it, and that hurt. Oh, I made a show of rebelling, and pretending I didn't care, and standing up to him—refusing to let him see a weakness in me. But deep inside me, I wanted him to love me because he was my father."

"I might've wanted that with Michael too," she mumbled, "maybe once when I was really small...but he was so hateful, he just killed any positive feeling I ever had for him."

"I suspect he was consistent with his obvious dislike of you and your sisters. Father had a peculiar way of running hot and cold. Mostly cold, but on a surprising number of occasions, I saw flashes of what could have been if he had loved me as he did my siblings. I think perhaps there was something in there, not as much as for them, but something at least. Knowing that may have only made my resentment and bitterness that much stronger. So I suppose that could be one reason I can't get over what he and Arnulf did to me." He took a long breath, exhaled, and cleared his throat. "What else, then?"

Leslie realized she was suddenly weary, tired of plumbing the depths of their psyches, and physically so as well. "I...I can't think anymore all of a sudden. It's like my brain's had enough and it wants to shut down."

"We've worn ourselves out, emotionally speaking. I'm not the only one who feels very deeply, my Rose. Whatever depth of love I have for you, you easily match it with your love for me. You have strong loyalties just as I do, and your bitternesses and resentments are as stark as my own. So when those emotions boil over and clash, they leave us exhausted. I can suggest a cure, if you think you're up for it."

She smiled at that, relieved on some level, and snuggled in close to him. "I'm glad you asked...I was hoping you would, because I still want you."

His gentle laughter warmed her, and he assured her, "Good—I still want you too." So saying, he pushed her with care onto her back, then kissed her.

Their subsequent lovemaking was more intense than they had ever known it to be; and when it was over at last, for some time they just lay there, sucking in air, sometimes writhing weakly against each other with gentle aftershocks as they settled down. It took them most of fifteen minutes to become fully conscious of themselves, each other, and their immediate surroundings—and when they did, it was because the baby delivered an energetic kick that made Leslie flinch hard and cry out in pain. Christian, lying flush against her, felt it almost as strongly as she did, and let out a startled _jordisk_ curse that made them both laugh.

"Ow, you little brat!" Leslie groaned, half amused, half annoyed. "That one just plain hurt! Did you feel that, my love?"

"I most certainly did," he assured her through chuckles. "Something tells me our little one has had enough of our indulgence of each other and wants us to stop."

"Silly thing has no idea what it really means," Leslie murmured, turning to him and cradling his cheek in her palm. "Maybe in a couple of decades, this little turkey will finally understand what we just shared. Christian, my darling, I wish the words existed to tell you exactly how much I love you. You had every right to drag me over the coals the way you did. You could have given up, gone ahead and sent me home by myself, given me that punishment I have coming to me, but you didn't. You stuck it out, even when you were right on the edge of letting go, and you pulled us both through. I don't think anyone else would've ever done that for me. I swear to you, my love, I'll never forget this. Never."

He smiled at her, and in the low golden glow from the bathroom, she saw his eyes grow misty. "I nearly did give up, my Rose, but when I tried, I simply couldn't make myself do it. You don't know either, you can't possibly know, how very much I love you—so much I sometimes think I've been bewitched. Even if I could have followed through, in the end I would have come right after you. I simply can't live without you." He dropped a kiss on her lips. "We have more talking to do, as much with the family as with each other—but for now, just be reassured that I love you, and I won't leave you, nor will I reject you. We'll deal with this, and we'll be all the stronger for it. So go to sleep, and tomorrow we'll attack it again."

They fell asleep cuddled against each other, still overheated from their wild, intense lovemaking, and woke about an hour later only long enough to realize they were chilled and shivering. Christian pulled the covers over them both and wrapped himself around Leslie, who slid an arm around him and pressed a sleepy kiss to his chest. "My darling," he mumbled drowsily, and slept again, as loath as she to let go.


	5. Chapter 5

§ § § - - February 26, 2009

Sunlight drenched the castle, finding its way around the blackout curtains that had been pulled over the windows beside the bed. Leslie came awake all at once to find herself facing said windows, blinking and wondering why she felt so sated and even slightly sore. Then she saw the clock—which read a mere few minutes short of the noon hour—and her eyes widened for a moment before everything came back to her in a flood. She rolled over to find herself alone in the bed. "Christian?" she exclaimed, flying into a sitting position despite the awkwardness lent to the movement by her pregnancy.

"Hello, my Rose, I'm in the bathroom," he called back, and she relaxed with relief.

"Oh, good," she blurted before she thought, and his answering laugh made her grin sheepishly at herself. She slid out of bed and padded across the room to pause in the bathroom doorway, where he stood just as naked as she from the night before, with a sleepy look clinging to him. He was just laying a folded towel on the counter by the sink, and smiled at her when he saw her in the mirror.

"I haven't been up long," he told her. "I'm about to have a shower. Would you care to share with me?"

She lit up. "I'd love it." She came fully into the little room and hugged him tightly, kissing his shoulder before resting her head on it.

"What's this?" he queried indulgently, returning her hug and resting his head on hers for a minute. "Not that I'm complaining, mind you, but I wonder."

"I'm just reassuring myself that we really did patch things up last night," she said, closing her eyes. "I'm so glad. I scare myself thinking about how selfish I was."

He chuckled briefly, squeezing her before letting her go; she turned him loose with reluctance. "Tell me, Leslie, just one thing. Are you ready now to confide in the rest of the family, to explain to them what you're feeling and why? Are you ready for them to help push through the problem and find some possible solutions?"

"Do you think they'll still want to, after all these weeks of my being such a...a martyr?" she asked with some trepidation.

"Martyr?" Christian repeated with surprise, quirking an eyebrow. "Where on earth did you get that word for the way you were carrying on?"

"Anna-Laura. She actually called me a martyr in the making, and the more I think about it, the more I think she had something there. Before you comment on that, I do want to see if maybe they have some ideas. I...you were right too about how I complained on the one hand about feeling outside the family and then on the other hand shut you all out. I gave them this...sort of blanket apology just before supper last night, but I was so terrified about facing you and the way you might react, I had no appetite and I spent the whole evening in here trying to figure out what I'd say to you."

He smiled. "I see. Well, we both know this isn't over, not even between just the two of us; but the basic issue is one we alone have to work out. However, that doesn't mean we can't solicit a little help, and if you show you're truly sincere about your wish to join the family fully, I think they'll respond to that. If I seem a little stern to you at the moment, just remember that I love you no matter what. I just want you to understand that they may claim the right to give you some hell of their own, and I warn you now, I won't stop them."

She nodded contritely. "I deserve it anyway, and they deserve the chance to vent, so I won't say anything unless they ask me to." She sighed, her head drooping. "I feel so stupid, so ashamed. I should've known better."

"You certainly should," he concurred with a soft laugh, "but no one's perfect, so I'll be happy to settle for the fact that you've come to your senses." He slipped a couple of fingers under her chin and raised her head till their eyes met. "As I said, remember, I love you. Now let's have a shower, and perhaps we can surprise the family by appearing very late indeed for lunch." He winked and she finally grinned.

Christian reassured her by taking it upon himself to lather her down with soap, even washed her hair for her, kissing her frequently in the process. Once she had rinsed off, Leslie insisted on returning the favor, and he submitted, murmuring with surprised pleasure that it felt better than he'd thought. "I guess the last person who gave you a bath was Madame, when you were very little and too young to remember what it felt like," she remarked.

"Yes, I think you're right. Perhaps we should do this more often," he said, throwing her a wink over his shoulder and making her laugh.

Half an hour later, dry and dressed, they walked hand in hand to the royal dining room, where the family was nearly finished with lunch. They all stopped and stared as the couple came in; Leslie tightened her grip on Christian's hand, sweeping a skittish look across the others' faces. It was Anna-Laura who spoke first, though. "So it seems you two are back on good terms."

"We are," said Christian. "It was a very draining process, but I think we've come through the worst of it. Are we too late for some lunch?"

"Another five minutes and you would have been," Carl Johan said. "Well, sit down, the serving staff will handle things."

"Hey Mommy, Daddy, guess what," blurted Tobias excitedly from the other end of the table where he sat with his other young cousins. "Roald showed me some really, really cool video games last night. I like that driving one best." He turned to Roald. "What's it called again?"

_"The Great Drag Race,"_ Roald said, grinning. "If that's your favorite, maybe you can talk your parents into buying it for you."

"Oh, damn you, Roald, you've turned my son into a video-game addict. That fort in our backyard will never see another moment's action," Christian pretended to grumble, and the family laughed. As he and Leslie sat down, she caught Michiko's eye and gave her anxious-faced friend a reassuring nod. Michiko smiled and relaxed at that.

"What happened to the girls?" Christian queried after a few minutes.

"They're still at Anna-Kristina's," Amalia said. "She called about nine and asked if we had heard anything from you two, and we said no—we had no idea whether you were even speaking to each other. I took it upon myself to let her know she could keep the girls for the day, if she was willing to join us for supper this evening."

Christian nodded. "Well enough." The family glanced at one another again, but there were no other questions, though Leslie was all too aware of the unease in the room.

As the group prepared to depart the dining room, Michiko managed to worm her way around to Leslie. "What happened? Are you and Christian all right?" she whispered.

Leslie nodded. "We're in much better shape now. It's only that...there are still things to work out, and I have a lot of amends to make, so I think Christian's determined to start right now. I'll fill you in later on when I can."

"Do you have news on Mr. Roarke, too?" Michiko persisted.

"Yes, some anyway—I talked to him just before I saw you yesterday, when I was looking for Christian. Like I said, I'll tell you later when I get a chance. Christian and I still have things to hash out, so if you can hang in there a little longer, I'd appreciate it."

"All right, all right," Michiko agreed through a sigh. "I just wanted to be sure you two weren't about to split up. But you both look better, so I'll wait. I'll go have a visit with Adriana." She smiled at Leslie, then found her stepdaughter in the exodus from the dining room and joined her.

Tobias had talked Roald into letting him play still more video games, so Roald took charge of him again. Christian took Leslie's hand and led her back to their suite; what they didn't know till halfway there was that Anna-Laura and Carl Johan had trailed them, and they peered around curiously when they did notice. _"Hallå då,_ is there something on your mind?" Christian asked.

"Would you mind very much if we had a few words with you?" Carl Johan asked. "Under normal circumstances I wouldn't bother, but this isn't normal, and I've been truly bothered about your situation for some time. You can remind us that it's none of our business, but I..." He cleared his throat and looked away, and a rock spontaneously generated in Leslie's stomach at that moment.

"We discussed it a bit, Carl Johan and I," Anna-Laura added. "We're simply worried."

Christian considered it, regarding his brother and sister while Leslie looked warily on. "Well, all right. Come in with us and we'll sit down together."

When they were seated—with Christian beside Leslie on a couch, at least, if not actually touching her—he studied Carl Johan and Anna-Laura. "All right then, let's hear it."

"Are you sure you two are all right?" Anna-Laura wanted to know. "You didn't speak much at lunch. You said you've managed to make up, but I wonder how true that really is; you don't look completely at ease, not the way we've always known you two to be."

Christian nodded comprehension. "Let's just say that Leslie and I had a long, long talk last night. I had the chance to impress on her precisely what I've been going through all these weeks, and then we began to work our way back to a more even footing. We haven't finished, not by any means; but we've made a good start."

"So you came back here to...what?" Anna-Laura asked. "Talk more?"

"Yes. Once we got through the initial confrontation, we came to realize that there are other, deeper issues to work out. For the most part, those are between Leslie and me; but I told her just how ironic it was that she expressed worry about being seen as an outsider, yet shut us out when she could, and should, have turned to us for help."

"I see," said Anna-Laura, her voice crisping as she turned her attention to Leslie. "Christian's right, Leslie. That's exactly what you've done. Do you truly want to be part of this family, or was it only words?"

Leslie flinched slightly, but Christian didn't react, and she sternly warned herself not to expect him to come to her defense. She wasn't sure whether the question was rhetorical; but when everyone waited, she realized she was going to have to say something in response. She swallowed and tried, without quite succeeding, to meet Anna-Laura's gaze. "I do want to be part of the family. I was just so...so self-absorbed, it...I..."

"You certainly were," Anna-Laura muttered, shaking her head. "Well, I won't try to scold you for it; I'm sure Christian must have done a thorough job of that. I do want you to know just how hypocritical I think it was for you to say one thing and then do the precise opposite. We've offered on any number of occasions, but I think I realized exactly how many times we've offered—and you've failed to accept—on the morning we had to look in every corner of the castle for you after you found out about your father's impending retirement. After that I stopped believing you ever would."

Carl Johan said then, "Leslie, I know what you've always meant to Christian, what an important part of his life you are. And when I met you and we watched you two being married at your father's house on Fantasy Island, I could see that he meant just as much to you. It gave me great hope and relief to know that my brother would finally have such happiness in his life." He waited till she was returning his gaze; then drew in and released a deep sigh. "Over the last few weeks, watching you sink deeper into your self-pity and seeing the way you shrugged off everyone—even Christian—and seeing his reaction to your treatment of him, I began to fear that perhaps your life's priorities were out of order. Look at me, please." Leslie wrenched her eyes back to his face and swallowed again at sight of him; something in his features reminded her of Arnulf, maybe because just then he looked so much the part of the king whose placeholder he was.

"Your father is naturally going to be important to you; this we understand. The problem with that is that you no longer live with him. You have a husband and children now, and they should be your first priority. But you place so much importance on your job on Fantasy Island and your perfect life there, that you've neglected Christian and the triplets, and I'm sure you haven't done much better by that unborn child you carry now. We don't begrudge you your worry about Mr. Roarke and your uncertainty for your future in his business. Of course you're going to be concerned. What we take issue with is the way you focused on that to the complete exclusion of every other facet of your life. Christian told me you spent quite a bit of time wishing you were back on the island, that it was obvious you resented being forced to wait here. Frankly, I think you're quite fortunate that he seems to have forgiven you for what you've done to him lately; I must admit, I don't think I could be as generous."

Christian grunted, looking amused. "Well, _äldrebror,_ I guess you've truly spoken your mind for a change. I've never seen you like that—you make me think of Arnulf, fate forfend." He and his siblings chuckled; Leslie was too chastened to see their humor.

"I agree with Carl Johan," Anna-Laura said. "Seeing Christian there with you as he is now tells me that he has a great love for you, Leslie, a love that secretly I wondered whether you deserved. I just hope you've seen sense in time enough to save your marriage." Leslie flinched again but sat in silence, stoically enduring. _You deserve this, you deserve this,_ kept scrolling through her brain.

"If I had done to Esbjörn what you did to Christian," Anna-Laura went on, "I would have expected him to walk away from me, and he would have been justified. I think Christian would be justified in doing so too, and I'll be blunt and say that I still half expect him to do it. I would have supported that decision a hundred percent. What you did to him is simply shameful, and with all the love and support he's given you in these years of your marriage, this is the reward he gets from you? Do you care more about where you live and what you do than whom you're with? If so, you have a serious defect in you."

_"Herregud, äldresyster,_ suppose you shut up now," Christian suggested mildly. "Don't you think you've made your point?"

"You're very generous, Christian Carl Tobias," Anna-Laura said, sighing.

Carl Johan gave her a warning look, and she lifted her hands in capitulation while he turned back to Leslie. "All I have to say is that I hope you've learned from this, Leslie. I won't go any further than that. Now perhaps you'll stop looking around at us as if you expect us to sentence you to a firing squad tomorrow morning at dawn."

"I was...I've been seriously expecting you to," Leslie murmured, too shamed and stunned even to cry. "Especially Anna-Laura...I didn't know I was going to engender so much hatred because of my stupidity these last several weeks." She fell silent then, unsure she had the right to say anything else.

"Ach, Leslie, we don't hate you," Carl Johan said, his voice more kindly now. "We just couldn't bear to see what you were doing to Christian and your children. It's made us quite angry on his behalf, and I suppose we simply wanted to be sure you understood."

"Oh, I do, believe me," Leslie muttered, lowering her gaze.

Christian gathered her in and cuddled her against him. "That will do. Anna-Laura, damn it, you may be unwilling to put this past you, but in the end you don't matter; it's my decision that counts here. Leslie is my spouse, not yours, and you may be justified in your outrage; but don't expect me to allow you to influence my decisions about my marriage."

"Why doesn't she explain herself, then?" Anna-Laura demanded in exasperation. "She merely sits there and lets us throw our bombs at her, and says nothing."

Leslie's tears burst the dam, to her private disgust, but her voice was surprisingly steady. "Oh really? Would you have believed a single word I said?"

Anna-Laura opened her mouth, but Carl Johan stopped her. "All right, Anna-Laura, that's quite enough! Listen to yourself. Christian has a point when he says that his marriage is his affair and not yours. You've had your say about the mistakes Leslie's made. Christian has clearly decided that his love for Leslie is more important, stronger, than holding grudges and harboring resentments about her transgressions. I'll tell you now, I could wish for that same generosity of spirit in you. Give over and let this thing die, or there will be a rift in the family that will involve not only you and Leslie, but possibly you and Christian as well. Get that temper of yours under control. What matters here is that Christian and Leslie are trying to work things out and strengthen their marriage, because they love each other so much. Sometimes you're simply too harsh. You've said your piece; now put it past you. If you need time to forgive Leslie for her actions, then take it—but in the meantime, keep your mouth shut before you do any further damage."

Christian cleared his throat. "I saw to it that Leslie knew I wouldn't stop any of you from having your say as to your opinions on what she was doing. However, Anna-Laura, you went too far. You'll be quiet, at least to Leslie, until you can be civil, if not warm and sisterly to her. You can be certain I'm going to get to the heart of that over-the-top reaction of yours, but right now I only want to move on." He turned his attention from his chastened, if rebellious-looking, sister to Carl Johan. "Leslie told me Mr. Roarke promised to give her more information as to what's going on with the island and his retirement, but there hasn't yet been enough time for that to happen. I suspect, though, that unless her cousin can use her services, there's at least some chance we may return to Lilla Jordsö to live. So I'd like for you all to consider ways that Leslie could fit in here, things that she could do in her role as princess—possible charities she could work on behalf of, causes or even hobbies that strike a chord with her, so that she has something to fulfill her time in addition to raising our children. There need not be anything said now; I just wanted to put the request out there. I'd thought we could discuss it in a family meeting, but after what I've just witnessed, I don't think that's a very good idea. So if you have some thoughts, just come see us."

Carl Johan nodded, while Anna-Laura murmured an excuse and let herself out of the room. When she was gone, he studied Christian and Leslie; she was still in his arms, making a great effort to pull herself under control, and he was watching with a little smile, stroking her hair. Carl Johan shook his head, and the movement caught Christian's attention. "I find myself wishing Father could see the two of you together. If you had met and married five years earlier than you did, I think he would have been stunned and amazed at the way you've changed, Christian. I certainly am."

Christian grinned, squeezing Leslie. "Ah, well...what would you say if I told you he knows about it?"

At first Carl Johan could only stare at him in blank confusion; then he began to shake his head again. "This has something to do with Mr. Roarke, I'm sure. You seem all too eager to tell me."

"It does," Christian assured him, the grin as wide as ever. "You and Amalia were still on the island at the time—after that journalist had the meeting with the family about writing his book regarding the Vikslund Oil scandal. And believe it or not, Mother was there too. Leslie and the children had the chance to meet both our parents." He went on to tell an astounded Carl Johan the story of his long airing of grievances with Ulf, his joy in introducing Susanna to her daughter-in-law and grandchildren, and his parents' reactions to the changes in his life. "The most amazing thing to me about it all was that Father made it very clear to me that if I had met Leslie while he was still alive, he would have been more than glad to see us married, would have footed the bill for the entire wedding, and told the count that he'd have to settle for someone else to marry Marina to."

"Which just made me even angrier with fate, or coincidence, or whatever, that Christian and I missed meeting each other in 1993 by such a narrow margin," Leslie added.

Carl Johan laughed. "I can certainly imagine! Well enough then, I think it's best I leave you two to have that discussion I know you wanted to have with each other. And by the way, Leslie, two things. First, I can speak only for myself here, and probably for Amalia, but we both accept that apology you made last evening before dinner. It couldn't have been easy for you to stand up that way and humble yourself before the entire family. I appreciate your having made it, and I believe Amalia does as well.

"Second, don't fret about Anna-Laura. Her temper is nearly as volatile as Christian's, when there's good reason for it, and she takes her time about cooling down. But Esbjörn was always a calming influence on her. Early in their marriage—and now that they're reunited, too—he would take her aside when she began to get too angry about something, and bring her back around to a point where she could look at the situation with a clearer eye and a calmer head. I suspect he may be doing that even now as I speak. Give her some time; she's upset with you over what happened between you and Christian, yes, but she looks at you as the little sister she wanted as a child. She's said that you had given her some very wise counsel on a few occasions over the years. To see you close out the family as you did was very hurtful to her, and she was only reacting to that. It won't be long before she'll come to you to try to rebuild the bridge, so don't waste time worrying about her attitude now." He returned Leslie's grateful smile with a kind one of his own. "It's good, more than you can know, to see you two back together again. You belong together. Don't give up now, please? _Lykka till då, ungstebror."_ He smiled at Christian, then left them alone.

"Do you think Anna-Laura hates me?" Leslie ventured after a few seconds.

_"Herregud,_ no, Leslie. It simply comes across that way. She's angry and hurt, as Carl Johan just said. He's right; she's endowed with a fairly formidable temper of her own, and if there's sufficient provocation, it's a thing to behold." Christian chuckled and resettled himself in his seat, then sobered a bit and regarded her. "There's one thing Carl Johan mentioned when he was telling you how he felt, something in regard to your priorities in life. I was inclined to dismiss it when he first said it; but the more he spoke, the more I began to think about it. You do seem to place undue importance on where you live and what you do with yourself. I'm afraid I have to ask you this: what order, precisely, do you have those priorities in? Where do I come in? Am I second or third to your concerns about the island and your father? Have I always been so?"

Leslie pulled in a long breath, trying to steady herself, but the inhalation itself was none too smooth. "I know what it looks like, my love. My actions this past month sure seem to confirm that assumption. I think..." She drew in another breath, with little more effect than from the first. "I think it's kind of been there in the back of my head for a good while, sort of like this...this impending storm. I'm not unaware of it, but Carl Johan had to say it before I fully saw it."

"Mm-hmm," Christian murmured, nodding. "Go on."

"The more I think about it, the more damning it makes me look," Leslie confessed, her face hot enough to bake a cake. "From the very beginning, when you were trying to talk me into marrying you, you said you'd give up your life here and move to the island so I could still have my life. Sometimes I'm still stunned by that gesture—it was so incredible, the last thing I would ever have expected you to do. I think in the end, that was what convinced me that you loved me as much as you looked like you did. But I was starting to think, after Carl Johan mentioned priorities, that maybe you regretted that a little bit...that you felt you'd made too big a concession to me."

Surprise took over his face. "Is that true? Did I seem that way to you?"

"Christian, think about it," Leslie urged, sitting up and leaning slightly forward, eager to explain her thoughts. "You didn't have to do what you did. You did it because you loved me. And we both know I didn't plant the idea in your head, don't we?" Christian grinned and nodded good-natured concession. "I can see, looking back, where it looks as if I took advantage of that generosity by running my fat mouth about waiting here till the baby's born. But on the other hand, maybe this will answer your original question about my priorities. Do you remember when you tried to break it off between us, thinking you'd never be free of Marina? Well, I know I've told you this once before, but I think it bears repeating. I only wanted to die. Oh, sure, there I was on Fantasy Island, with my father and a job I loved. But if you weren't in my life, it wasn't worth living." She pulled herself out of the still-painful memory and focused on him. "I still feel that way. If you'd given in to that impulse you had yesterday and sent me home, I'd have been destroyed. Nothing's right without you, and it doesn't make any difference where I am, either. So that should tell you what my top priority is: it's you, my love."

"So you're telling me that there seems to have been a temporary skewing of the order, is that it?" Christian inquired humorously. She grinned at him, happy and relieved to see he was taking it so well. "Well enough, I imagine I can forgive that. Now let me ask you this: what does Dr. Salomonsson say?"

"He seems to think I have a case of prenatal blues," Leslie said, shrugging one shoulder. "Anna-Laura and Amalia both know about it, and Anna-Laura thinks it's just ordinary old depression. Amalia has the idea it's some of both. As for me...well, I really don't know what to think. All I know is, it almost cost me you."

"Prenatal blues," Christian murmured, pondering the concept, taking her hand as he did so. "I'm not sure I've ever heard of that—not that that's significant, since I'm no doctor. But there's no reason not to believe that could happen. What now, though?" This last was rhetorical, Leslie could see, and she watched him, waiting till she could tell he was too lost in thought to speak further.

"We could always pay him a visit now, if you think that'd help," she suggested. "That way you could hear for yourself what he has to say."

"That idea, I like," he announced and pulled her to her feet as he stood. "Let's go: it's a Thursday, and there's no point in waiting around."

On their way to the doctor's castle office, Christian said, "I apologize, my Rose, we'll probably have to speak in _jordiska_ to properly conduct this examination I want Dr. Salomonsson to do. But his English isn't as advanced as the family's, and I'm sure there are medical terms he'll have to deliver in _jordiska."_

"Why are you apologizing for speaking your own language, in your own country?" Leslie asked, making him stop dead in the great entry and stare at her. "Seems kind of silly to me. I can just ask you for translations later."

With no warning at all he hugged her hard, tangling his fingers in her hair and swallowing loudly enough for her to hear it. "Now that's the woman I fell in love with," he murmured. "I knew she had to be in there somewhere, under all the pregnancy tears and the madness." He drew back enough to smile into her eyes. "Thank you for that, my Rose. Now, let's go bother the doctor." She laughed; he grinned, and they were off again.


	6. Chapter 6

§ § § - February 26, 2009

Dr. Salomonsson bowed to them both and willingly agreed to conduct a thorough exam on Leslie. This took most of an hour, and Christian refused to be chased out of the exam room; Leslie backed him up, wanting him there with her. So he watched intently while the doctor measured Leslie's abdomen, did a long ultrasound, conducted blood and urine tests, and made what seemed like a novel's worth of notes. He asked so many questions that Leslie sometimes found herself not knowing the answers and having to turn to Christian for his observations. Finally Dr. Salomonsson performed an amniocentesis on Leslie, who bore it with wincing stoicism, and asked them to wait there in the exam room while he ran analyses on the fluids he'd taken from her.

"Are you all right? I saw the look on your face when he withdrew the amniotic fluid," Christian said, coming to stand beside the high bed where Leslie lay.

"Oh, I'm okay. It wasn't any worse than when Dr. Corbett took some while I was expecting the triplets. I'll have a sore spot there for a couple of days or so. What do you think? He's like every other doctor I ever went to—no expression at all to give any hint as to whether the test results are going to be good or bad."

Christian laughed. "I think they're trained that way during medical school. All we can do is wait to see what the verdict is, I'm afraid."

They had been waiting patiently for nearly half an hour before the doctor finally returned. "Your Highness, your baby is essentially healthy," he said in brisk _jordiska_, "but a little underdeveloped for this stage in your pregnancy. I'm going to give you a prescription for an extra set of vitamins you should take. Your Highness—" here he turned to Christian— "this is a list of nutritious foods that Her Highness should be having, at every meal if at all possible. For the sake of your child, you should see to it that the kitchen staff receives a copy of this and follows it strictly. And these are recommended nutritional drinks for Her Highness to take that will benefit both her and the baby." He gave Christian two sheets of paper, then addressed Leslie again while the prince perused the lists he was holding. "Your Highness, I realize that we still have snow on the ground, but that doesn't mean you cannot take walks. I recommend twice-daily walks along one of the corridors in the north wing, three times each way. Walk with someone if you like—perhaps His Highness will be willing to accompany you. When the snow melts and the weather is better, you should walk outside—twice around the front grounds of the castle. Make it a brisk walk, but not so rapid that you become short of breath. Get as much fresh air as you can."

As Leslie nodded at him, Christian looked up and asked, "What of her emotional state, doctor? There are differences of opinion on that, but I've been told you've diagnosed prenatal depression. Is it truly related to the pregnancy?"

Dr. Salomonsson studied him. "Would you tell me what you have observed about Her Highness that is different since she became pregnant, Your Highness?"

Christian thought about it. "It seems to me that she generally has it much easier this time than when she was expecting the triplets. She started out being sick for several weeks, and very early on she became sleepy at the slightest provocation and sometimes nearly dozed off, literally, on her feet. And all the way through, I've seen that she produces tears with no effort at all. She's had several nasty emotional shocks in the last few months, but even before that, she cried far too easily, and I think it's worse now."

Dr. Salomonsson nodded. "There's no proven and consistent cure for this condition, but there are ways to ease it. You've been staying around the castle for some time, have you not? I recall hearing before Christmas that you had traveled around the country a bit and even down to the United Kingdom for a few days. If Her Highness' father has said she is to remain here in Lilla Jordsö until the child is born, that is well and fine, and I agree with it, especially at this point when she is just completing the second trimester. But I see no reason for you to play it overly safe. I think you should take time for yourselves. Go to some of the neighboring countries on the continent, and enjoy yourselves. If there are formal events coming up for which the royal family has been asked for representatives, then volunteer to be those representatives. It will be my recommendation that Her Highness remain here at the castle beginning about the middle of April; but until then, I can find no reason to restrict her movements. So I suggest you travel a bit."

Christian chuckled at the look that lit Leslie's face. "I see my wife has no objection, and I don't either. Very well—let me have the prescriptions and I'll have them filled myself, and I'll make certain the kitchen staff sticks to this list. Thank you for your assessment; you've been very thorough, and we both appreciate it."

On the way back to their suite, they met Michiko, who appeared to have been loitering in the great entry hoping she'd eventually run into them. "Finally! I've been here for some forty minutes. Where were you two?"

"With the castle doctor," Christian said, giving her a look of highly amused surprise. "Among other things, we've been advised to travel. Did you have any intention of going to Arcolos while you're here having a prolonged visit with your stepdaughter?"

"Not unless I hear from my kingly stepson and his queen that my wayward daughter is ready to come home with me finally, and so far that hasn't happened. If you've been told to travel, why don't you choose someplace you haven't been to yet, at least not together? I think it'd be much more fun, and I'd come with you if you wanted company. If not, just say so and I'll make a pest of myself with Roald and Adriana."

Christian and Leslie laughed, and the two women hugged each other. "Well, we haven't even had a chance to talk about where we feel like going. Dr. Salomonsson said something about volunteering to represent the country at formal events on the continent, so I guess the first thing we do is look into that." Leslie turned to Christian. "Who's in charge of that, anyway?"

Christian grinned. "That would be the castle secretary. Come with me first, though, and I'll get this list down to the kitchens and see to it that the staff knows I mean business; if I see they're not following it, I'll bring down consequences I think Erik the Loser and old Ormsskägg would have been proud of." He winked and grinned again at their laughter. "Let's go; there's no time to waste, since Leslie and that baby need to begin working on getting back to prime health."

Leslie and Michiko got quite a private kick out of watching Christian dictate to the kitchen staff precisely what Leslie should be eating, and what would happen to them, courtesy of Christian himself, should they deviate from the list; they all seemed more than eager to do his bidding, bowing and curtsying all over the place and nodding madly till they looked like a collection of bobbleheads. Somehow the women managed to retain their composure till they had gotten back up to the royal dining room; then both Leslie and Michiko went weak with laughter, while Christian paused to watch them with a broad grin. "How in the world do you do that with such a straight face?" Michiko exclaimed.

"A lifetime of practice," Christian told her and started to laugh himself. "The kitchen staff rarely sees any of us in fact, so if one of us happens to appear in their domain, it must be serious. I don't think we'll have any problem following Dr. Salomonsson's recommendations for Leslie. Try to stop laughing, you two, and let's go see the secretary." But he was still chuckling himself as he led them across the great entry to the castle office.

‡ ‡ ‡

By late April Leslie had developed something of a routine; she took her walks as prescribed, almost always accompanied by someone. Sometimes she was with one, two, or all three triplets; occasionally, in the beginning, she was with Michiko, till Michiko returned to Fantasy Island at the end of the first week in March, but she took most of her walks with Christian. Now and then, just to keep himself from getting too rusty, he'd take a run instead of walking with her, always acknowledging her in some way as they passed each other in the corridor. The kitchen servants had diligently followed the menu Dr. Salomonsson had given them, which tended to leave Leslie with some heavy cravings. If they became overwhelming to her, Christian found a way to sneak something to her that would satisfy them and allow her to keep going.

They were seen in each other's company almost exclusively; after their near-estrangement in February, Christian went to his office only if he was really needed, and he and Leslie took the children with them on the several junkets they embarked upon in Europe. Their first outing together was an official visit to London once again, this time to represent Lilla Jordsö at a gathering for the British royal family. Their second trip, just two weeks later, was to Norway for a second royal gathering; the third journey was strictly a pleasure trip to the Netherlands, Belgium and Germany. In mid-April, they explored Switzerland and Austria, combining pleasure travel with a little state business in the latter country when they met several key governmental officials in Vienna to cement ties between the two lands. In fact, they even managed to sneak in an overnight trip to Carpathia, where they greeted the dowager queen, Aurora, and enjoyed a banquet with young King Miroslav, 28 now, and Queen Jolanta, along with their two young children.

Dr. Salomonsson kept a sharp eye on Leslie as well, and by the time she and Christian and the children had returned to the castle from this fourth trip, he pronounced the baby in fine health, if still slightly undersized due to Leslie's earlier problems. But no one anticipated what happened early in the morning of April 26.

Leslie had just taken her latest dose of the vitamins the doctor had prescribed, and had been shifting in her chair from time to time because of a persistent low-grade backache. She was some days past her eighth month of pregnancy, and she had started carrying low so that the fetus seemed to be sitting squarely on her bladder. Christian had kiddingly complained that she headed for the bathroom every fifteen minutes. Leslie had admitted on several occasions that she was looking forward to giving birth; after she and Christian had worked their way back together on that nerve-wracking February night and the baby had kicked Leslie as if in punishment after they'd made love, the fetus seemed to have decided to remind its mother it was there in regular and no uncertain terms. On a couple of occasions Leslie had even discovered bruises on her abdomen after a particularly enthusiastic blow, and Christian was still worried that there might be internal damage; but the doctor had reassured him that there would be nothing lasting.

The family had been talking about that this morning when the backache Leslie had been enduring for a couple of days suddenly gathered, strengthened and circled to her front, giving her a cramp that made her gasp loudly and freeze in her chair. Instant silence fell and everyone stared at her; Christian's gaze was alarmed. "My Rose, what's wrong?"

As if responding to his question, the pain intensified; all Leslie could do was moan and try to double over in her chair, with both arms wrapped around her distended abdomen. The triplets gaped, eyes wide and filling with fear; Rudolf, Louisa and Adriana leaned over to reassure them while Anna-Laura shook her head at the others. "We should know well enough by now! If you ask me, Leslie's having a labor pain."

"But it's too early!" Christian protested. "She isn't due for nearly another month!"

"This wouldn't be the first baby that was ever born early," Anna-Laura told him. "Roald, get Dr. Salomonsson, quickly." As her son scrambled to his feet and ran out, she directed orders to the startled servants; meantime Carl Johan assisted Christian with getting Leslie to her feet, and Susanna, Karina and Tobias tumbled out of their chairs and crowded around their mother's legs, clinging to her maternity top and trying like a trio of peeping baby birds to get her attention.

Roald came back with the doctor in less than a minute, and he brought Leslie, Christian and the children—who refused to leave their parents—down to the suite they all shared so that there would be more room. The rest of the family came along too, as if it were a spectator sport; by the time Leslie had recovered from this first pain and was settled in a chair with Christian hovering over her and the triplets still clutching Leslie wherever they could get hold of her, Christian found himself counting heads and realizing he could account for the entire Enstad clan. "What in the world is this?" he asked.

"We weren't able to witness the triplets' arrival," Anna-Laura told him. "This is much different. You'll not get rid of us now, _ungstebror."_

"What's wrong with Mommy?" Susanna demanded loudly then.

Christian reached out and smoothed his daughter's hair. "She's getting ready to have the baby, _lillan min._ Pretty soon you and Tobias and Karina will see your new brother or sister...maybe today, maybe tomorrow."

"Having a baby hurts?" Tobias asked, looking dubiously at his mother.

"Afraid so, sweetie," Leslie said ruefully, exchanging an amused look with Christian.

"Then I don't want to ever have a baby," Tobias announced, which caused everyone to explode with laughter. They were in the midst of explaining to Tobias why this was not his worry when another pain hit; Dr. Salomonsson checked his watch and turned to Carl Johan with an urgent look.

"Less than ten minutes, Your Highness," he told the prince regent. "I think it's best that Her Highness is taken to the hospital immediately."

"Oh, this one's going to come fast," Amalia murmured, gazing sympathetically at Leslie. "Rudolf came quickly that way. By this afternoon you may be holding that baby."

While they were preparing to take Leslie to the same Sundborg hospital where most of the family, including Christian, had been born, Leslie took the opportunity to reassure the triplets. "I'm going to be okay," she said. "Mothers have babies every single day. I might have to be in the hospital for a couple or three days, but I promise that Daddy'll come back and tell you all about what happened, okay?"

"Can we come and see you after the baby comes?" Karina asked.

"I'm sorry, sweetie, hospital rules won't allow it, but you'll get to see us, believe me. The baby's coming a little sooner than it's supposed to, so it might be a few more days. But I _will_ come back, I promise you. Don't be scared, okay? After the baby comes out, I won't hurt anymore." She winked at them, then gathered each in turn for a hug and a kiss on the head. "I love you guys. You have fun with your cousins now, all right?"

With the triplets under their adult cousins' wings, Leslie was soon on the way into the city in one of the castle limos; Christian was with her, of course, and they had company in the person of Carl Johan, Amalia and Anna-Laura. Esbjörn was in Copenhagen on some manner of political business and had been for a few days, and Anna-Laura was on her cell phone with him even now, filling him in on the events. She and Leslie had had a talk of their own, mending fences and rebuilding bridges, and they had actually become closer as a result. Since then Anna-Laura had been almost as interested as Leslie in what was happening on Fantasy Island, and she had been among the first to read Roarke's e-mails, after Christian and the children.

"Don't you think you should inform Leslie's father?" Carl Johan asked Christian as they wove through city streets. "He's going to miss this one's birth, after all."

"I'll call him when Leslie's settled into a room," Christian said, and there was something in his voice that told them he wouldn't be parted from her, hospital rules or none. "We have time. Have you informed Gerhard and Magga and Stina yet?"

"There's time for that too," Carl Johan said, grinning. "Were you this uptight when the triplets were born? Leslie's pains are coming so quickly, she probably won't have to suffer very long with them."

He was right; at a little past two-thirty that afternoon, Leslie produced hers and Christian's fourth child. He was with her when the baby arrived, just as when the triplets were born, and held her hand tightly while she pushed, panted and wailed from time to time. She went so limp when the baby finally emerged that Christian thought at first that she'd fainted. "Leslie, don't do that," he exclaimed. "Not again."

She began to breathe deeply and opened her eyes, finding the energy somewhere for a smile. "No, it won't be like what happened when the triplets came," she murmured. "I'm just so tired, I don't want to move for a week."

He laughed softly and leaned down to kiss her forehead, filmed though it was with a sheen of perspiration. "You did so well, my Rose. It's all right. I'm not going anywhere."

"Good," she whispered, letting her eyes drift shut. "Tell me what we got..."

"I can't tell you if you fall asleep," Christian teased. She smiled faintly, and he wrapped his other hand around hers and looked around the room. A nurse was just bringing them a blanket-wrapped bundle; when she saw Christian watching her expectantly, she smiled and dipped a quick curtsy, then presented him with the baby.

"Your new daughter, Your Highness," she said.

"Leslie," Christian whispered, waiting till she opened her eyes. "Leslie, my darling, we have a baby girl. And you never told me what names you like."

That made her blink at him. "You never told me either..."

Christian rolled his eyes and grinned, settling gingerly on the side of the bed and turning the newborn so that Leslie could see her face. Slowly Leslie reached up and, with a hand that trembled from fatigue, traced the infant's tiny nose, chin and cheeks with the lightest of touches. Christian watched her, well aware that this would probably be their last baby, and admittedly glad that one of his children was a Lilla Jordsö native.

After a while he observed, "I checked out the window at some point in between your contractions. The street outside is filled with press and television people. I'm afraid we're going to have to make an announcement, but I'd prefer to do that when I have a name for the country's newest princess."

By then the doctors and nurses who had tended Leslie through the birth had gathered around the bed, and one of the doctors leaned forward a bit. "If you've chosen a name," she offered, "we can immediately label your little one's crib in the nursery. She's a bit premature and a little underweight for a baby at this stage of development, so we'd like to keep her here for observation for the next two weeks."

Christian and Leslie looked at each other, then both nodded understanding. "In that case, what's her name, my Rose?" Christian prompted.

"I want to be sure you're going to like it," Leslie said, hedging for a moment, gazing hopefully at her husband.

His eyes warmed and he smiled, still carefully cradling the baby. "I'm sure I will. I'm glad you asked. Tell me, please, what you chose."

Leslie focused on her brand-new daughter once more and pulled in a long breath, then spoke softly. "Welcome to the world, Your Royal Highness, Princess Anastasia Gabriella Julia Martina Enstad."

She heard Christian draw in a sharp breath, noticed the medical staff exchanging wide-eyed glances, and met their looks with a little anxiety. "That's all right, isn't it?"

"It's perfect," Christian murmured, relinquishing little Anastasia to a nurse before leaning down to kiss her. "And I think the entire country will agree."

* * *

_It's going to be interesting to find out what the family goes through in the face of their need to make a lot of major decisions. Even I don't fully know yet what that will be, so I guess we're all in for a few surprises. Thanks as ever for your thoughts!_


End file.
